The Way Things Should Be
by Ian R. Moros
Summary: The last Needle was pulled and the Dark Dragon woke up. It was the end of all things, but also the start of something big enough to recreate the entire world. When Lucas opened his eyes and saw this new world it was not what he expected, but it was what he wanted.
1. The End of the World

The shaking was getting worse, the darkness more oppressive. The ground beneath Kumatora's feet began to churn and buckle.

"We gotta move!" she yelled to the others.

No one answered, but she could see the resolve on all of their faces. Boney would stay with his family to the end; Flint refused to abandon his sons; and Duster knew that there was no outrunning this. Lucas stood alone, staring up as the cave crumbled around him. Whatever happened from here on was out of his hands. He could only hope that his heart had been good enough.

"Damn it," Kumatora hissed. She stood her ground, seething at the thought of going down without a fight.

Duster turned to make eye contact with her and gave her a reassuring nod.

Flint knelt down next to Claus with Boney by his side. He took hold of his son, cradling the boy to his chest. There was still so much he wanted to say, so many apologies to make, but it was too late. He looked up again and found that Lucas was looking back. His son smiled, a tired smile with red, puffy eyes, but one that told Flint all he needed to know. Lucas forgave him. Humbled, Flint turned his gaze back down to Claus once more and he prayed for the strength to forgive himself.

Sparing one final moment for his family, Lucas closed his eyes right before the ground gave out beneath him. He was falling, or at least he thought he was. The light, the ground, his loved ones: they were all gone. He was rudderless and adrift in a vast black sea. And yet he knew that this blackness was not empty. On the contrary, there was something all around him, something impossibly big.

Then came the noise: like distant thunder, but quick and steady.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

A heartbeat. The sheer scale of it left him dumbstruck. Could this be the Dragon? If so, it was nothing like the monsters his mom had told him bedtime stories about – fearsome beasts for knights in shining armor to slay. No mere human could hope to fathom the size of this Dragon, much less fight it.

And yet, there was something . . . familiar. It was warm; almost comforting. The heart, as big to him as a mountain to a mole cricket, kept beating. Lucas had no way of knowing if the Dragon could think or speak. It wasn't like he could get its attention. But the heartbeat? That he could be certain of. For good or for ill, the Dragon had a heart.

Lucas's thoughts drifted back to his home and the way it used to be. All the fighting had been for that: not to stop Porky and his Pig Masks, not to restore Leder's "world" or to stop the end of his own, but for the sake of a place that no longer existed, and for people who were lost. He couldn't be too mad, though, because the fighting led him to Claus in the end. Even though his mom and brother were gone now, Lucas still loved them all the same. That much would never change.

As for what would come next, that was up to the Dragon. Lucas was happy to wait and see what this "something big" Ionia had promised would be.

What kind of new world would a Dragon dream up? What stories would it tell?

As long as there was still love, Lucas could learn to live with it.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.


	2. Waking Dream

"Lucas!"

He pulled his blanket over his head. Everything was spinning.

"How long're you gonna sleep?!" The voice was louder now, closer.

He kept his eyes shut tight as the morning light tried to claw its way in. This racket was not helping.

"Get up so we can eat!" It was right above him now, and in one swift motion took hold of the covers and yanked them away.

"Ungh!" Lucas groaned, clutching his pillow to his face and curling up into an even smaller ball than before.

"Get up already! Your omelet's getting cold, and if you don't eat it then I will!"

His stomach grumbled at him. For any other food he could have ignored it, but some urges are stronger than sleep.

"Better hurry up!" the voice sang as it hurried away.

And then it hit him: the heavenly aroma of his favorite food. His eyes shot open and he rolled over to get up, but got tangled in his own limbs and fell right off the side of the bed. He scrambled to his feet as fast as he could, still feeling woozy. His head ached like he'd had a full meal of fresh Tanetane mushrooms the night before, but he still staggered toward the kitchen.

"Mornin'," Flint greeted his son with a slight nod.

"Loving the bed-head, Lucas," said the same voice from before.

Lucas froze. His eyes were finally starting to adjust, and his head had begun to clear. As expected, his dad sat at the table, but he wasn't alone. Across from him, clad in a familiar yellow and blue shirt, sat Claus — the real Claus, in the flesh with all his original parts right where they should be.

Before Lucas could even process what he was seeing a third figure entered his field of view, placing the last of four plates on the table. She smiled at him, and he could have burst into tears on the spot.

"Lucas, sweetie?" Hinawa asked. "Are you feeling alright? You're white as a sheet."

"If he's too sick to eat, can I have his omelet?" Claus asked.

"You eat too much as it is," Flint pointed out.

"I'm a growing boy!"

"Growing wider by the day," said Flint.

"Mom!" Claus whined. "Dad called me fat!"

"Claus, dear, how about you eat your first omelet before you ask for seconds?" Hinawa suggested.

Lucas stared. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. He must be dreaming, he decided. It wouldn't be the first time he found himself here in his sleep.

. . . Except that none of his dreams had ever felt so real.

"I'm . . . fine," Lucas muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

"What's that sweetheart?" Hinawa asked, turning back to Lucas.

"I'm fine," he repeated louder, the words compelling his legs to move. "I just, um, stood up too fast." He ambled over to his spot at the table, right next to Claus.

He managed to stop gaping at his brother long enough to look at his breakfast. Steam was still rising off the food on the plate in front of him. He breathed in the intoxicating smell. Despite years of trying, he'd never been able to make omelets as good as his mom's. With the first bite, he felt like he was in heaven. How he'd missed this.

A thought struck him. Maybe this _was_ heaven. Maybe he'd died. Would he even know? How could he tell?

"Don't forget we've got a busy day, Lucas," Claus told his brother.

Hinawa looked at Lucas with some concern before addressing Claus. "Maybe Lucas should stay home if he's not feeling well."

"But mom, today's special!" Claus whined again. "There's supposed to be some kinda secret save frog meeting out in the woods. It only happens once every hundred years or something!"

Flint sipped his coffee. "Save frogs, huh?"

"Yeah! Fuel told me so!"

"Uh-huh," Flint said dismissively. "And wasn't Fuel the one who told you about that there flying drago you were going on about?"

"I'm telling you guys it's real!" Claus insisted. "And invisible."

"How about those 'mermen' at the beach?" Hinawa reminded them both. "I swear you would've drowned yourself if your brother wasn't there."

Claus scoffed. "That's the whole point! They show up to save anyone who's in trouble."

"Maybe you two could stick around here today," Hinawa suggested with a smile. "I'm sure your father would appreciate some help with the sheep. Right, darling?"

Flint nodded before shoveling another bite into his mouth.

"But mom . . ." Claus pleaded with the saddest eyes he could fake. "What about the frogs?"

Hinawa was not falling for it. "You'll have plenty of time to play later, young man."

"It's not 'playing'," Claus sulked.

Lucas swallowed another mouthful of eggs and dug in yet again. His eyes kept darting between his mother and brother. They were here. They were real. He could reach out and touch them.

If this is what death is like, then he could live with it. And if this was a dream, it was a beautiful one.


	3. Mom

Lucas concluded that this had to be the Dragon's doing.

Everyone else had gone to bed hours ago, giving him some much needed time to think. Even Boney was sleeping soundly in his doghouse: Lucas could see him from where he sat, leaning against the old picket fence in the yard. The sky was clear that night, and the moon was as big and bright as he'd ever seen it.

The full day with his family had confirmed for Lucas that this was no dream. Neither was it the afterlife; if it had been they would have remembered everything, but instead they all acted like the last three years had been nothing but peaceful. Everything felt right. It was his world, but the Pig Masks were all gone. They hadn't been wiped out; it was more like they had never been there to begin with. No New Pork City. No Thunder Tower. No modern conveniences. No forest fire. No chimeras.

No reason for Claus to go looking for revenge.

Lucas told himself he should be overjoyed, and he was. All except for the tiny sliver of doubt in the back of his mind that wouldn't let him rest.

"Lucas, honey?"

He'd been so lost in thought that he hadn't heard the door open. "Yeah?"

"What are you doing out here?" Hinawa asked, her voice hoarse.

"I couldn't sleep," he explained quickly. "I didn't want to wake anyone else up."

She hiked her dressing gown up a bit as she made her way over to him. "Oh, Lucas." She placed a hand on his forehead. "Maybe I should take you to see the doctor tomorrow."

"Doctor?" Tazmily had never had a doctor that Lucas could remember.

"I think you might be coming down with something," said Hinawa. Her concern was strangely soothing.

"No, it's fine. Really," Lucas insisted. "I just wasn't tired. I always was kind of a night owl, right?"

"That you were," Hinawa admitted. "You know, between you and that early bird brother of yours it's a wonder that your father and I ever managed to get any sleep at all when you boys were babies. You two would take it in turns to cry all day and all night long."

If she had felt Lucas's face at that moment she probably would have been convinced that he was running a fever.

"Is something on your mind?" Hinawa asked.

Lucas shook his head. "N-no."

"You can always come to me, Lucas," she reminded him. "But I can't help if I don't know what's going on inside that head of yours."

"It's nothing," Lucas tried to reassure her. Part of him knew she wouldn't buy it; he never had been able to lie to her.

"Come on, sweetheart," she said, offering him her hand. "Let's get you to bed. I'm sure a full night's rest will do you a world of good."

He'd be lying if he said the thought of curling up in bed didn't appeal to him, but Lucas still didn't want to. "No, it's okay. You go back to sleep." The truth was that he was afraid of what might happen if he closed his eyes. What if he opened them in the morning and all of this was gone? The thought terrified him.

"Lucas . . ." his mother chided him.

"I'm not sleepy," he repeated. His argument was made less convincing when he couldn't hold back a big yawn.

"I've heard that one before," she said. "Luckily I've learned a few tricks to help a certain young man get some rest."

Lucas smirked. "I think I'm a little old for bedtime stories."

"And _I_ think you're a little old to insist on staying up so late," Hinawa intoned. "Come on. You'll thank me in the morning."

It was a fair point. Perhaps he was being childish. Besides, if his worst fears did come true and his family was gone in the morning, he knew that he wouldn't want his last moments with them to be spent arguing about something so trivial. If this was the only time he got with them, he wanted it to mean something. He wanted to say the words he never got the chance to say before. "Hey, I, um . . ."

"Yes?"

"I . . ." He thought carefully about what to say next. "I'm sorry. There's something on my mind, but I have to deal with myself. I don't want you to worry about it too."

"But sweetie, that's what moms do," said Hinawa.

"I know," he acknowledged. "If I need your help I'll ask."

"Promise?"

Lucas nodded. "Promise."

"Well I hope you do ask. I can be pretty helpful."

"And, um . . ." It was hard for him to face it, but he felt like this wasn't his real mother. His real mother was dead. Had he really grown so attached to her death that he couldn't imagine her any other way? In all other respects, the woman before him was the one who he had always called mom, who read him bedtime stories and tucked him in as a child, who fed and bathed and clothed him, who took care of him when he was sick or sad or when he just needed someone. She was his whole world when he was younger, and when she died his world ended.

"I wanted to say that . . ." But she was here now, standing right in front of him like it had all been a terrible dream. As much as he wanted to believe in miracles, he could still feel a poisonous doubt in the pit of his stomach. It had taken years to come to terms with losing her; he worried that reversing that could take even longer. No matter what his head told him, though, the answer was clear to Lucas's heart. He had to put aside his doubts and say the words he'd wanted to for so long. "I . . . love you, mom."

He reached out and embraced her. She returned the hug with the same tenderness he had always come to expect from her. Her warmth, her smell, her heart: it was all as it should be. From the moment of that hug onward, he knew that she was his real mother.

"I love you too, my little sunflower," she said. "Now come on inside. Whatever's bothering you will look a whole lot better in the morning."

"Thanks, mom." He hoped it would.


	4. An Apple a Day

True to her word, Hinawa insisted on taking Lucas to see the doctor. He wouldn't admit it, but he was nervous; he'd never been to a doctor before. It was also his first time going into town since he'd woken up in this strange yet familiar world the day before. Tazmily was mostly the same as it had been three years ago, with its dirt roads, rustic homes, and easygoing people. There were a few extra buildings around that he'd never seen before, though, and one of them seemed to be right where they were heading.

Lucas stuck close to his mother. He knew this town well enough to sleepwalk through it, but that only made the tiny differences stand out that much more. How could something so familiar – so warm and inviting – feel wrong? Maybe it was only nerves about seeing the doctor. Maybe his caution was well deserved. Lucas had dealt with too many bad people wearing friendly faces to let his guard down now. But if there was anything fake here, he couldn't tell. It wasn't like New Pork City where everything was so hokey and slap-dash. It wasn't like Fassad and his Happy Box sales pitch. The people were real. His mother and brother were _real_. Yet knowing that only got Lucas's hackles up even more. He expected the other shoe to drop at any moment.

The interior of the ramshackle clinic was simple and wooden like most of the town, with open windows for the breeze to blow through. There were a few chairs around the entryway and a desk on the far wall, positively covered in papers and unfamiliar doodads. There was a section of the building off to the right that had been partitioned off, and a set of stairs leading up.

"Oh, Doc!" Hinawa called out sweetly. "Do you have a minute?"

"Coming!" a voice hollered from upstairs. A moment later an older gentleman in a bowler hat and a tweed jacket came waltzing down. Despite the odd getup, Lucas wasn't fooled for a second.

"Dr. Andonuts?" he asked.

Dr. Andonuts chuckled. "You're always so formal, Lucas. Hinawa, you know I always make time for you! What brings you two around today?"

"Lucas wasn't feeling very well, Doc," Hinawa explained. "I was hoping you could take a look at him."

"A little under the weather, hmm?" Dr. Andonuts scrutinized Lucas. "Well you know, they say a slice of nut bread will cure what ails you, but it can't hurt to get a second opinion. Come on, my boy." Hinawa moved to follow, but Dr. Andonuts held her up. "Now Hinawa, I think Lucas can handle this on his own. We won't be long. You can even wait right here, if you'd like."

Hinawa thought for a moment. "Well, I do have a few errands to run in town. Would you mind if I stepped out for a bit, Lucas?"

Lucas shook his head. "No. I'll be okay." He didn't relish the thought of being alone with Dr. Andonuts, but he was sure enough of himself to handle it. Besides, this could be his best chance yet to find out more about what was happening.

"I'll be back soon, then," said Hinawa. "Oh, and Doc? If you do a good job, I'll bring you one of Mike's cookies."

Dr. Andonuts laughed at that. "Hinawa, you really do know how to motivate a man."

Lucas followed the doctor into the partitioned area. There was a bed, a few stools, and cupboards with some basic medical instruments; nothing fancy. He hopped up onto one of the stools at the doctor's urging, fidgeting as he tried to get comfortable while Dr. Andonuts washed up at the sink.

"So tell me, Lucas. What's wrong?"

"Nothing, s-sir," Lucas asserted. "I had some trouble sleeping last night, is all. And I was dizzy yesterday morning."

Dr. Andonuts nodded. "Mm-hm. Been running a fever?"

Lucas shook his head. "No."

"Coughing? Sniffles? Sore throat?"

"No, sir. I really don't think anything's wrong with me."

"I'll be the judge of that," said Dr. Andonuts, producing a tongue depressor. "Say 'ah'."

Lucas did as he was told. It was odd having someone check his throat, but hardly suspicious. "Haa-ah hah—"

"Ah, ah, ah," Dr. Andonuts chided.

Lucas quieted down to wait for the doctor to finish, which he did after a few more seconds.

"Well, it all looks fine in there," Dr. Andonuts noted. "Although you do want to be sure you get all the way in the back when you're brushing your teeth."

"Yes, sir. Sorry," Lucas apologized.

"Let's see about that blood pressure." Dr. Andonuts produced an unfamiliar contraption and wrapped it around Lucas's arm lickety-split.

"Hey, um, how long have you lived in Tazmily?" Lucas asked as the doctor squeezed one end of the device.

"Oh, pretty much my whole life, I'd say," Dr. Andonuts waxed nostalgic as he fitted his stethoscope into his ears and held the cold metal end against Lucas's arm. "Mind you in my younger days I took plenty of time to travel all over the Nowhere Islands, but I always wound up right back here."

"And things seem . . . normal?"

"Hmm?"

"After your trips," Lucas clarified. "You never came back to find that things were, you know, different than you remember?"

Dr. Andonuts chuckled. "That's the funny thing about getting old, my boy. Eventually you see so much change that it starts to look pretty darn familiar."

It wasn't much of an answer. Then again it didn't seem like Dr. Andonuts was trying to hide anything. He was friendly enough, but clearly took his job very seriously. That was especially surprising since, as far as Lucas knew, Dr. Andonuts wasn't a medical doctor.

"Hmm. Pressure's a little high," the doctor noted as he removed the sphygmomanometer. "But then that's not entirely unexpected. Could you lift up the back of your shirt for me?"

Lucas again did as he was asked and soon found the doctor's stethoscope on his back.

"Breathe in."

Inhale.

". . . And out."

Exhale.

"Did you ever run into anything dangerous in your travels?" Lucas asked. "Any monsters, maybe?"

"Heh heh heh," Dr. Andonuts laughed. "The only dangerous creature I had to contend with was me. You wouldn't believe some of the nasty spots I got myself into. Why one time I nearly broke my neck climbing up Mt. Oriander. Of course I suppose those wild times helped me in the long run; I wouldn't know much about medicine if I didn't have so many chances to practice it on myself."

"Did you ever run into any Magypsies?" Lucas inquired.

"Hmm? What's that?"

Lucas hesitated. "The, er, Magypsies."

"I can't say I've ever heard of them," said Dr. Andonuts. "Has Claus been telling you stories again?"

"No. I just thought you might have met them since you've been everywhere. Are you sure? They live in houses shaped like giant seashells."

"I've seen plenty of strange sights in my time, but that I think I'd remember. It sounds like somebody's bamboozled you, son."

Lucas tried to laugh it off. "Y-yeah. I guess they got me again." His mind was already racing.

"Well, the good news is you don't seem to be sick," said Dr. Andonuts, changing the subject. "You might be suffering from exhaustion though, so I want you to take some vitamins and go to bed early tonight. If you're still having trouble sleeping, try taking a soak in the hot springs to relax. You should be right as rain in a day or two, but if you aren't you should stop on by again."

"Thank you, sir. I'm sure I'll be fine." Lucas stood to go.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

"Huh?" Lucas shrunk back instinctively.

"This." Dr. Andonuts held up a lollipop. "No patient of mine leaves here without one."

Lucas smiled and took the candy before going out to wait for his mom to return. He would need that time to think.


	5. Brothers

"PSI Shield α!" A gust of wind swirled around Lucas as his body was surrounded by a blue aura. The sheep in the yard didn't seem to mind the spectacle too much. They were less than thrilled about the yelling, though.

Lucas needed to think, and using his PSI techniques helped him do that. He'd been to where Aeolia's house wasn't; the closest thing to trouble he'd encountered along the way was an overly affectionate walking bushie. Dr. Andonuts was right: the forest was safe, but he could find no trace of the Magypsies.

"DefenseUp α!"

Yet he still had his powers. He couldn't ignore that. Whether or not anyone remembered them, and even if all trace of them was wiped away, the Magypsies had been here. He was living proof of that. He was also the only one who remembered the world he came from. If this really was the Dragon's doing, why would it leave only him with any memory of what happened before?

"PSI Counter α!"

"Lucas!" Claus yelled up to him. "Aren't you done yet?"

Lucas looked over the fence and down the path to where Claus was playing fetch with Boney. "Sorry!" he called out. "We can go as soon as I'm out of PP!" His explanation was met with childish snickering from Claus. "That's what it's called!"

"I know!" Claus answered, still having a good laugh as he tossed a ball for Boney to run after. "Now hurry up!"

Lucas tried to concentrate. Claus's constant interruptions were not making this any easier. Lucas had almost forgotten his brother's knack for grating on him, but the last few days had brought it all back. "Lifeup α!"

"You know you don't have to shout the names of your moves, right?" Claus called up again.

"It helps me focus!" Lucas answered back.

"Whatever works for you, I guess." Boney brought the ball back to Claus, who gave it another toss before falling over onto his back out of boredom.

"Healing α!"

"Oh come ON," Claus griped. "We're gonna be here all day if you don't use something stronger than that!"

"This would go faster if you helped!" Lucas snapped.

"I'm not the one who needs the practice," Claus reminded him. "But you'll never get as good as me if you only use the α version of everything."

Lucas fumed, knowing full well that Claus was not as great a psychic as he claimed to be. _Nobody_ could be THAT great. He tried once more to focus his mind.

"Go long, Boney!"

A ball dropped right at Lucas's feet, followed a second later by a charging dog. In trying to snatch up the ball Boney knocked Lucas's legs right out from under him.

Boney turned to Lucas, the ball clasped in his mouth and his tail wagging. "Woof! (Did you want to play too?)"

"Offense Up Ω! Offense Up Ω! Offense Up Ω!" Lucas shouted furiously. "There! All done! Happy now?!"

Claus hopped to his feet and dusted himself off. "Finally!"

Lucas felt burnt out, and not just because he'd exhausted his PP. He followed alongside Claus and Boney through town without saying much. Truthfully, the whole situation was getting to him and he didn't know why. Everything was perfect. So why couldn't he accept it? Why did he convince himself that there must be something wrong?

"Hey, Reggie!" Claus called out and waved to their passing neighbor, getting a similar greeting in return.

Lucas managed a halfhearted smile and kept walking. It was all he could do to keep his dog entertained by continuing the game of fetch. Boney would bring him the ball and he'd toss it – rinse and repeat.

"Hey." It was Claus, interrupting his train of thought once again. "Are you feeling okay? We can sit in the shade if you need a minute."

"No, it's fine," said Lucas. "I wouldn't want to hold you back from your big adventure or anything."

"Hey now, come on. I thought it would be nice to take a walk. You push yourself too hard, Lucas."

"Yeah, well, I don't want to fall behind." Lucas kicked a rock.

"You're not," Claus assured him.

"Could've fooled me," Lucas pouted.

Claus groaned in frustration. "You've been so moody lately! What's up with you?"

Lucas flinched. He'd had doubts about his ability to play it off like he fit in here. Apparently the cracks were starting to show. "It's nothing."

"C'mooon, Lucas," Claus persisted. "If you don't tell me I'm gonna start guessing."

Boney brought back the ball and Lucas threw it once more. If even Boney still remembered, that would be enough for Lucas – at least he would be somebody to talk to. He'd tried asking his dog about things from before the Dragon woke up, but got no further than with anyone else. For the first time in years Lucas was surrounded by family but he felt more alone than ever before.

Apparently Claus took his brother's silence as a challenge. "Hmm. Could it be . . . a girl?"

"Give me a break," Lucas huffed.

"No, you're right. That's too obvious. How about a boy, then?"

"Claus!"

"Struck a nerve, eh?" Claus waggled his eyebrows at his brother.

"You're way off," Lucas warned him.

"It'd be easier if you told me," Claus reminded him. "But if not, I can keep guessing all day long. Let's see now."

"Okay, fine." Lucas did not want to learn what his brother's next "guess" would be. "Do you remember when you learned to use PSI?"

Claus had to think about it for a second. "About two, no, three years ago I guess. Er, not that I'm bragging. I always knew you'd catch up. And I was right! You're already almost as good as me and you've barely started."

"But HOW did you learn it?"

"I was past the forest, up near the mountain," Claus explained. "All of a sudden I felt feverish and then _poof_."

"Do you remember what you were even doing up there to begin with?"

Lucas was keenly aware that Claus was taking longer to answer the question than he probably should have. "I was . . . angry, I think. I must've had a fight with mom or dad and ran off to cool my heels."

"But you don't remember what that fight was about," Lucas surmised.

Claus shook his head, his smile returning. "Nope. I guess I forgot all about it after I found out I had _crazy psychic powers_. Is that what all this has been about? I know you're new to it, but it's not worth losing any sleep over."

Lucas was already deep in thought again. The holes in Claus's memory were too convenient for his liking, but he didn't know what it meant. Every time he thought he was getting somewhere he only wound back around to where he started with even more questions than he had in the beginning.

"Lucas? Are you in there?"

"Huh?" Lucas snapped back to attention. "Oh, yeah. Sorry."

"Gee, whatever's going on with you sure must be fascinating," said Claus. "Ol' Lucas can't even spare a second for the real world anymore, so he's gonna stomp around and act grumpy to be sure that nobody bothers him."

If Claus knew what was really going on he might take it seriously as well, Lucas thought to himself. "What did you want to do today?" he asked, changing the subject.

"I thought we could go see what Fuel was up to," Claus suggested. "Oh, and I also heard about this cave that I've been dying to check out. What do you think?"

"Whatever you want."

Claus rolled his eyes, growing ever more frustrated by his brother's lack of enthusiasm. He was about to say something snarky when he noticed the Prayer Sanctuary they were passing by and he was seized by a clever scheme. "Hey, let's go inside!"

"Huh?"

Claus grabbed his brother by the arm. "C'mon, it'll only take a minute. You look like you could stand to get out of the sun anyway."

Lucas wasn't willing to fight about this, and so did as he was told. Once inside he found a stone bench to sit down on while Boney sniffed around. No one else was there, like usual, making this a pretty good place to clear his head.

For the first time that morning Claus wasn't pestering his brother. Instead he took his time admiring the figures depicted in the center of the back wall – a pair of dragons, one white and the other black.

Given a few minutes to cool off and reflect, Lucas finally spoke up. "Hey, Claus?"

Claus perked up but didn't take his eyes off the fresco. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry I've been so moody."

"I forgive you." He said it so casually that Lucas wasn't entirely convinced Claus heard him.

"I've been a jerk."

"I said I forgive you," Claus reiterated, finally turning away from the wall and coming down to sit beside him. "I'm sorry too."

"Don't be."

"Hey." Claus looked his brother in the eyes. "You wanna talk about it?"

Lucas shook his head. "I can't." He expected his brother to say something, but he didn't. Instead, Claus kept on looking at him, waiting for him to go on. "I'm dealing with some things," Lucas continued. Claus did not answer. "Important things." Still no answer. "And I can't tell you about it because you wouldn't understand."

Claus still did not respond. Lucas hoped that saying as much as he did would satisfy his need to explain himself, but of course it didn't since he hadn't explained anything at all. He stubbornly refused to say any more for another minute or two while Boney grew bored of sniffing around the sanctuary and finally reclined by their feet.

Lucas let out a sharp sigh. "Okay, but you have to promise you'll forget everything I tell you as soon as I'm done." Claus gave him an expectant look but kept quiet. "You're going to think I'm nuts, aren't you? And then mom and dad will think I'm nuts and then everyone in town will think I'm nuts and then this perfect world will be ruined because I couldn't keep my big, dumb mouth shut."

Lucas fidgeted with his hands and squeaked his shoes on the stone floor, desperate for an answer from Claus that was not coming. After what felt like an eternity of waiting, Lucas gave in. He shut his eyes and opened his mouth. "Three years ago a lot of bad stuff started happening and a bunch of people got hurt by these bad guys in pig masks who showed up and started taking over Tazmily but nobody believed me when I said they were bad guys except for Mr. Wess and Duster and Kumatora but Duster and Kumatora went missing and they put Mr. Wess in an old people prison with grandpa and I was all alone until one day I heard that Duster showed up again so Boney and I went to find him because he had an egg that was special for some reason but when we found Duster and Kumatora and the egg it turned out that someone was pulling some weird needles to wake up a giant sleeping Dragon that could destroy the world so we had to be the ones to wake it up first to make sure that wouldn't happen but when we did wake him up the world ended anyway or at least I thought it did until I suddenly woke up here the other day like nothing had ever happened and everyone was okay but nobody else remembered the last three years and I don't know what I'm doing here or if this is even real or if what happened was real but I want it to be real so bad because I don't want all that pain and suffering to have been for nothing and now you're going to tell me I'm crazy."

And then, having heard Lucas's story, Claus answered without hesitation. "I believe you."

Lucas was shocked. "You what?"

"I believe you," Claus repeated.

"Why?"

"Do you really have to ask? Lucas, how many times have you followed me while I did something crazy?"

"I don't know. More than I can count, probably."

"Even though you knew better."

Lucas nodded. "Yeah."

"You've had my back through everything, no matter how dangerous or stupid it might have sounded. So of COURSE I believe you on this one _thousand_ percent. I might not understand what's going on, but I trust you. I will _always_ have your back, Lucas. To the end of everything."

Lucas didn't have the words to describe how he felt about his brother in that moment. What he had done to deserve so much faith he could not imagine, but he was glad to have it. "Thanks."

"Do you feel better?"

Lucas nodded. "Yeah. I might be out of my mind, but at least I'm not alone."

Claus laughed. "As long as I'm around you'll never be alone."


	6. Osohe Invader

Wess held his nose in disgust as he stepped around the charred remains of zombies that littered Sunset Cemetery. He wouldn't normally wander this place at night, but somebody had already cleared the way, and they left quite the mess behind.

"I came as soon as I could, Mister Wess," Nippolyte explained, leading him toward the castle. "You always told me that I should let you know if anything happened and that's exactly what I did. Oh look at this place! I'm going to need a bigger shovel to deal with this. Or maybe a dustpan. Whoever came through here sure meant business, don't you think?"

"You did good work, Nippolyte," Wess said tersely, stopping in front of the open drawbridge. "You go on back to your shack now. This old thief can handle things from here."

"Are you sure about going in there alone, Mister Wess? That castle's full of ghosts and snakes and all sorts of nasty critters. I don't want you to get hurt."

Wess shook his head. "By the look of things out here, a few ghouls are the least of my worries. But watching that castle is still my job, and I aim to do it. Let's just hope that doing my job doesn't mean you'll have to do yours."

"If it does I'll be sure to pick out a beautiful plot for you, Mister Wess."

Nippolyte's words were cold comfort. Nevertheless, Wess had a duty to perform and he was damn well going to get it done. He hiked up his trousers and marched into the courtyard, ready for whatever dangers awaited him. Of course after the display outside he had some suspicions about what he'd find within. He was proven correct almost immediately when he found some dazed Arachnid!s stumbling around outside the entryway. Wess suspected that black eyes and broken legs were even worse when you had so many of each.

The heavy castle doors were already wide open, but Wess still knocked on them to announce himself. He may have been a thief, but he wasn't rude. Things were eerily quiet — and not in the normal way one might expect from a haunted ruin. Even though Wess had come prepared for a pitched battle there wasn't any trouble to be found. Instead he came across room after room that had been ransacked, and the castle's inhabitants in quite the state. There were scattered suits of armor and weapons, some of them partly melted while others were just plain broken. Paintings that had hung in the castle forever now lay broken and battered on the floor, almost spitefully splintered. The carpets, too, had been scorched, shredded, and apparently trod on by someone who hadn't wiped their boots before coming in. Not even the doors were safe from defilement, as Wess passed through a number of them that had been busted up. But more than anything else, Wess passed by a ceaseless stream of smashed specters (most of them from the intruder, though a few from excessive drinking). It goes without saying that not a one of them wanted to fight after the thorough whooping they'd all already received.

Undeterred, Wess pressed on through the ruin's winding hallways. If he wanted to find this interloper and safeguard the secret treasure of Osohe Castle, he needed only follow the trail of destruction. In due course the trail led him down a hallway where he heard angry cursing coming from the next chamber. Wess steeled his nerves, bracing for whatever was up ahead so as to make his approach as stealthily as possible. This invader might be powerful, but a sneak attack from a master thief like him could fell even the most fiendish of foes before they even knew what hit them. Sucking in a final breath, he turned the corner and, much to his delight, beheld his quarry.

"Princess Kumatora!" he cried out.

Wess scarcely managed to get the words out before Kumatora spun on her heel and sent a burst of freezing cold air right at him. He managed to sidestep the attack, but only by the skin of his teeth. His whiskers were left a bit frosty from the close call.

"Wait!" Wess shouted, holding his hands up. "It's me, Princess!"

". . . Wess?" Kumatora asked.

"That's right! You remember me, don't you?"

Kumatora hesitated, scrutinizing the old man for a moment. The she narrowed her eyes suspiciously and unleashed another PSI attack. She did not miss the second time around.

Wess's body went completely rigid under the effects of Kumatora's paralysis and he fell onto his side. "P-p-p-princess!" he managed to say through clenched teeth.

Kumatora stomped over to Wess and leaned her face down toward his to look him in the eye. "I told you: call me Kumatora. Did you bring a rope or anything to get over these holes in the floor?"

Sure enough, there was a large gap just ahead that had apparently prevented Kumatora from going any deeper into the castle. "N-n-n-n-no."

Kumatora groaned. "Some help you are, old geezer," she griped.

"W-w-w-why . . .?"

"I needed to have a look around," Kumatora explained. "Something's up and I figured this was as good a spot to start as any, but without a way across I can't even look around. Y'know you really let this place fall apart. What a waste of time this was."

"H-h-help?" Wess suggested.

"Nah, I can handle this fine on my own," said Kumatora.

"N-no! H-h-help. M-m-me!"

Kumatora considered it for a moment before answering. "No offense, old man, but I don't know if I can trust you."

Wess gave her a questioning look. Kumatora always had a fire in her belly, but this seemed out of line even for her. "W-w-why. N-n-not?"

"Because right now there's not much I _can_ trust."

Wess didn't understand. He could only look at Kumatora and hope she would explain what she meant.

"Where have I been?" she asked him pointedly. "Somewhere away from Osohe Castle, right?"

Wess did his best to nod, which in his state meant wiggling his whole upper back.

"I'm supposed to be the princess of this ruin, and you're supposed to be my loyal retainer or something," she went on. "But where have I been? Who was I with? I certainly didn't grow up alone in the woods, dancing with nymphs and howling at the moon with wild dogs. I'm damn sure that I didn't take care of myself for my whole life. So who did, then? And why can't I remember them?"

It seemed like such a strange question to Wess. He hadn't thought much about it himself, to be honest. All he knew was that Princess Kumatora was being raised by someone else and that his job was to protect the castle's treasure for her.

"Where did I learn to use PSI?" she asked, plainly expecting no answer. "Who taught me? It's not something you can learn by accident." She began to pace back and forth, finally giving voice to the questions that had been eating at her. "I don't expect you to know. I don't know either, even though I should. That's messed up, right?"

Wess again couldn't add anything. He really needed someone to fill him in on what was happening, but it didn't seem like Kumatora was going to be the one to do that.

"It's so strange," the princess went on. "It's like a big, empty spot in the middle of a room. I don't know what's supposed to be there, but I can damn well tell that something's missing. Maybe you're just as much in the dark as I am." Kumatora looked down at Wess again for a second. "Or maybe you're playing the part of my 'loyal retainer' to spy on me. So what is it, huh?"

Wess looked up at Kumatora. Their eyes met and hers softened on seeing the confusion in his.

"No, I can tell you don't have a clue either." She relaxed her stance and gave an exasperated sigh. "Look, the short version is that I know someone was there for me growing up, but I don't know who that was. I don't know their name or their face or anything. It's a bunch of blank spaces where I should remember my life. And the worst part is that I can't say how long this has been going on; I only realized it in the last day or so myself, actually. You must have noticed it too, right?"

Wess hadn't, in fact, noticed that anything was amiss. He would have written Kumatora's ravings off as nonsense, but the more she spoke the more he began to realize there was some truth in her words. If he was supposed to protect her, then why didn't he know who she was with? He'd even been to see her a few times over the years, and yet the circumstances surrounding those visits were hazy. He wanted to help, but how could he without even understanding the problem? Only one possibility sprang to mind.

"S-s-s-saturn."

Kumatora raised an eyebrow. "Saturn Valley?" She was familiar with the mysterious Mr. Saturns, but it seemed like an odd place to go looking for answers.

"H-h-help?" Wess suggested again.

Kumatora reconsidered his request. "Oh, fine."

After a quick shock from Kumatora's healing, Wess's body loosened up again and he could breathe a bit easier. "You kids these days have no respect for your elders," he said, sounding worn out.

"What a shame. You're actually a good listener when you can't talk back." Kumatora reached down and helped Wess to his feet.

"You're really in it this time," Wess noted as he dusted himself off. "Now as I was saying, I'd go looking for a Mr. Saturn if I were you."

Kumatora remained skeptical. "Do you really think they'd know anything about this?"

"No, I don't," Wess had to admit. "But who better to turn to when you've got an inexplicable problem than people who can't be explained?"

"That's pretty shoddy reasoning even for you," Kumatora pointed out.

"Do you have a better idea?"

Kumatora huffed. She didn't. Osohe Castle had turned out to be a dead-end and it wasn't as if there was anyone else she could ask.

"If you want, I can send the moron I call a son with you," Wess offered. "It's about all he's good for."

"Tch. Forget it, old man. I'm not your babysitter."

"Darn it, girl! I'm supposed to be keeping you safe."

"You've done a real bang-up job so far."

"I'm being serious here. Getting to Saturn Valley is no easy trip, you know."

"And it'd be even harder if I had to drag along some dead weight," she pointed out.

"I have half a mind to come with you myself. We'll see how you like it then."

"Don't flatter yourself. At your age you'd be lucky to have a third of a mind."

"I liked you better back when I thought you were an evil monster here to steal the Egg of Light."

"And I liked _you_ better when you were paralyzed."

"Well next time you try something like that at least do me the favor of putting me to sleep so I won't have to listen to your caterwauling!"

Kumatora laughed. "Nice one!"

Wess chuckled back. "Well, you do bring out the best in me."

"I've missed our little chats, you know. We've got to do this more often."

"So stop by next time you're in town," Wess offered. "We can have lunch."

"Only if you're not the one making it."

"Deal. That son of mine might be a useless moron, but he can at least cook."

"I'll be dreading it the entire time I'm away."

"You're sure you don't want any help?" Wess asked once more.

"Not this time."

Wess saw Kumatora out of the castle. She didn't even stay the night – she was on a mission she didn't understand, but one that she was driven to complete. She knew only that Saturn Valley was her first stop, but her true destination remained as elusive as her past.


	7. Matched Sets

Even though he'd been looking forward to this all month long, Lucas still couldn't believe his eyes when he actually saw it. The beach was packed with people, picnic tables, food, balloons, banners, and everything else you could want for a party. The whole town was there, as were people from far and wide around the Nowhere Islands. There was even a band playing live music. DCMC, naturally.

"Hey, Lucas." Claus nudged his brother with his elbow. "I bet I can eat more cotton candy than you."

"And I bet you'll eat so much that you wind up getting sick and puking blue all night," Lucas replied with a grin. "Again."

"You're on!" Claus exclaimed, ready to charge in until his father caught him by the shoulder.

"Boys, try and behave," Flint reminded them.

"We will," Claus said dismissively. "Hey, do I smell barbecue?"

Hinawa laughed. "I swear you act like we never feed you. But if you're going to the buffet, could you do me a favor?" She offered Claus the large casserole dish she had brought for the potluck. "Could you drop this off for me?"

"Yes ma'am!" Claus took the dish with gusto. Lucas followed closely behind his brother while still taking in all the sights around him.

This festival used to be his favorite event of the year, but there hadn't been one ever since the townsfolk got too busy working their jobs to make time for it. Seeing everyone together like this reminded Lucas of good times. As he sidled up behind Claus at the buffet he could overhear his friends and neighbors catching up with one another.

"Angie, dear, I think I saw Fuel and his father down by the water," Caroline noted. "Did you want to say hello?"

"Huh? Why?" Angie asked.

"Oh, no reason," Caroline shrugged. "I thought it might be nice to see them is all."

"I'm surprised the Mr. Saturns never join us for the festival," Mapson noted. "Do you think they got lost on the way?"

"Wouldn't it be Misters Saturn?" Lou asked.

"No, you numbskull," Bud said with a huff. "Why would it be Misters Saturn?"

"That's the plural of mister, Bud."

"Sure, but 'Mr. Saturn' is their name. It's not like they're called Bob or Tom or Larry Saturn. They're just called Mr. Saturn. And you call a bunch of them Mr. Saturns."

"Well how do you know they're not Bob or Tom or Larry Saturn?" Lou replied. "I don't see you getting to know them."

"I know enough to know that a Mr. Saturn is a Mr. Saturn, Lou."

"So you're saying that if there was a Mrs. Saturn, you'd still call her Mr. Saturn?"

"A Mrs. Saturn wouldn't be a Mr. Saturn, now would she?"

"Come have some food, Matt," Jill suggested.

"How am I *hic* supposed to *hic* eat with these hic-*hic*-cups?" asked Matt.

"Well at least grab something to drink."

"And have everyone *hic* call me a lousy drunk?"

"Then have a Fizzy Soda!"

"That'll only *hic* make my hiccups *hic* worse!"

Claus was piling as much food on his plate as he could fit. Lucas opted to stick with more sensible portions, but before he'd made it halfway through the line his brother drew his attention.

"Heads up, it's Nana," Claus said in a hushed tone. Lucas turned to look, but his brother tried to stop him. "Don't make eye contact!"

It was too late. Nana spotted them and waved. "Lucas! I knew you'd come!"

"Hi, Nana!" Lucas called back, much to Claus's chagrin.

Claus knew it was too late for his brother, but at least he still had a chance. He slipped away from the buffet as fast as he could before Nana could move in for the kill. He did feel a twinge of regret about having to miss out on the desserts, but knew it was for the best.

Looking around for an empty spot to enjoy his meal, Claus passed by the stage. A few townsfolk were dancing – Abbot and Abbey, Paul and Linda, and it looked like Lisa had even managed to get Thomas to give it a shot. The picnic tables were too crowded for Claus's liking, so he turned his attention down toward the sand instead. There was Dr. Andonuts, explaining the finer points of bottle rocket safety to Nichol and Richie while launching fireworks. Flint was talking with Lighter and Isaac, which was a conversation that Claus did not want to get sucked into – it was probably about waterproofing or something equally boring. He also caught sight of his mom and grandpa. It had been a little while since Alec had come to visit, so Claus thought it would be good to see him.

"Hey, grandpa!" Claus called out as he approached them, carefully balancing his plate in one hand while waving with the other.

"Claus, there you are!" Alec answered. "I was just telling your mother that you boys should come by more often. I think the dragos miss having you around."

"Are you sure it's only the dragos that miss them?" Hinawa asked with a cheeky smile.

Alec chuckled. "Heh heh. It does get rather lonely up on that mountain all by myself," he admitted. "If you and those scamps ever want to come by you're always welcome. Shoot, I could even make room for that husband of yours if you can drag him along."

"We'll all come up to visit soon," Hinawa assured him with a smile. "Won't that be fun, Claus?"

"Hmm?" Claus slurped down a mouthful of the best baked yams he'd ever tasted. "Oh! Yeah, I'd love to come! Same goes for Lucas." Ever since that day at the Prayer Sanctuary, Claus had been taking his brother all over the place to help re-familiarize him with things. Claus still didn't fully understand what Lucas was going through, but getting out and seeing how happy and peaceful everything was seemed to put his mind at ease.

"Speaking of whom, where did he run off to?" Hinawa asked, looking over Claus's shoulder.

"It's too late for him," Claus lamented in an overly dramatic manner. "Nana saw us, and he bravely sacrificed himself so that I could escape to deliver his final message: he says that I can have all his stuff."

"Ah, there they are," said Hinawa upon spying the pair.

Alec followed his daughter's gaze to where Lucas and Nana were. She was talking and he was nodding along, smiling but plainly contributing very little to the conversation. "Best be careful with that one, Hinawa," Alec warned her. "If I had to guess I'd think she was putting the moves on that boy of yours."

"Oh nonsense," Hinawa said with a chuckle. "She's just being friendly. Between you and me, Lucas could use some more friends his own age."

"Laugh if you want, but it wasn't all that long ago that a certain cowboy was asking my sweet little girl for a 'friendly' dance at this very festival," Alec reminded her. "And look what happened because if it: I've gone all old and grey before my time!"

"You already had plenty of grey even then," Hinawa pointed out. "And I was hardly a little girl."

Alec scoffed. "Bah! You'll always be a little girl to me."

"Dad asked you to dance at this festival?" Claus asked.

Hinawa beamed. "He sure did. You might not think it, but your father was pretty light on his feet back then."

Claus had a hard time picturing it. Still, one more glance at the couples on the dance floor made it seem like love was in the air this time of year. "So all it took was one little dance and you knew he was the one or something?"

Hinawa had a good laugh at that. "No, not quite, but it certainly didn't hurt."

"Huh."

Claus went back to enjoying his food while his mom and grandpa continued catching up. Eventually Lucas wandered over, looking dazed and groggy from Nana's rambling but otherwise quite pleased.

The sun sank lower in the evening sky to the smooth tunes of DCMC, and for once it seemed to Lucas like he was the one doing all the talking between him and his brother. At first he chalked it up to Claus being too busy eating to respond much, but as the night went on he realized that Claus was only picking at his food. The older twin was looking off into the sea of familiar faces with a goofy smile that Lucas had never seen before. It was only when Claus realized that Lucas had noticed that he finally got back to his food, looking strangely flustered and with a hint of pink in his cheeks.


	8. Tonda Gossa

OJ wiped his brow. He was sweating like a hog under his jacket – not that he'd let the audience catch on. They'd just finished the encore and could finally hang up their instruments for the night while everyone else went to watch the fireworks. As exhausted as he was, though, he wouldn't trade it for the world.

"That was a great set."

OJ smiled. "I think it was missing something," he told the unexpected guest. "It's too bad our bassist couldn't make it tonight, 'Lucky'."

Duster shrugged. "I don't think you needed him."

"Get over here!" OJ said as he gave Duster a hearty slap on the back. "Hey boys, look who it is!"

Baccio, Magic and Shimmy Zmizz all looked up from their after-show routines.

"Lucky! Good to see you!" said Magic. "I was worried it was going to be that big guy again asking us to sign more merch."

"It's too bad you weren't here earlier. You could have played with us," Shimmy Zmizz noted.

Duster laughed. "I wasn't dressed for the occasion." He wasn't wearing his wig or suit.

"The music's not in your threads, Lucky," Baccio reminded him. "It's all in your heart."

"Clothes do make the man, though," added Shimmy Zmizz. Magic nodded in agreement.

"I'll tell you what," said OJ. "As soon as we're packed up we can all go have drinks together. Let's get to it, guys!"

"I wouldn't want to impose," said Duster as the band got back to packing their things.

"You're not," OJ assured him. "You're in the band, so you drink with the band."

Duster felt a twinge of guilt. "I wish I could've played with you guys tonight."

"I told you not to worry about it," said OJ. "But if it'll make you feel better you could grab that amp for me."

Duster was more than happy to help out. He knew how rough this job could be after a show; an extra pair of hands made for much faster work.

It was something of an open secret that he was DCMC's fifth member. Short of wearing a mask over his face when they performed, there wasn't much he could do about that. Still, only a few people from Tazmily ever came to the band's shows regularly, and for the most part they had either not known it was him or at least pretended not to. It was a good system up until the band got a gig right here in his hometown.

Even if they didn't say it, Duster knew his friends were disappointed when he told them he couldn't play with them at the festival. He was disappointed too. In any other circumstances he would walk across hot coals to play in front of a crowd that size.

"You'll be at practice, right?" asked OJ.

"I wouldn't miss it," said Duster.

"I didn't think you would," said OJ. "So, do you want to talk now or later?"

Duster froze. "Huh?"

"Either way is fine," said OJ. "Just let me know."

Duster went back to packing up equipment. "If this is about me missing the show . . ."

"Something's obviously on your mind," OJ remarked. "And you wouldn't be here if you didn't have something to say. When you want to say it is up to you, though."

The saxophonist sounded so relaxed, as he always did, but Duster liked to think he could read OJ better than that. "Now is good."

OJ nodded. "Lay it on me."

"I'm sorry," Duster said plainly. "I left you guys to twist in the wind tonight."

"It's all good, my man. Water under the bridge."

"I have responsibilities here," Duster went on. "They're not the best, but they're mine."

"I follow you," said OJ. "So it's Duster, right? What's Duster responsible for around these parts?"

"I'm a thief."

OJ bobbed his head. "I dig it. You any good?"

"I'm good enough." Duster was humble about his role and his skills, but OJ had a keen nose (and little patience) for humility. Duster was a good thief, and he knew it. It wasn't that he had any particular talent for it, though. What it came down to was constant, back-breaking practice every day of his life since he was a boy.

"Sounds like an important job."

"So I'm told."

"You don't buy it?"

Duster had never been convinced that his role was an important one. No matter how many days he trained or injuries he suffered, he was still hounded by a question. Why? What was the point of it all? "Does it matter?"

OJ shrugged. "You tell me. You'd know better than I would."

"It's my responsibility." What good was a thief if there was nothing to steal – especially a thief that didn't want to steal in the first place? What was the point in protecting Osohe Castle if there was nothing to threaten it? It all seemed meaningless as far as he was concerned, but it was also the only life he had ever known. "I don't have to like it. I don't have to agree with it. I don't even have to understand it. But it's still mine, and if I don't do it then it won't get done."

"That's a cold way to live, my man."

Duster shook his head. "Maybe, but there's no fighting destiny. Everyone has their own. You don't get to pick and you might end up with one you don't like, but it's yours."

"That's the funny the about destiny," OJ told him. "You might not get to pick yours, but you also don't know what it is until you've lived it."

"I might not know where this is all going to end up, but I do know that people are still counting on me to play my part." The words slipped out before he even had time to reflect on the irony. "Not that you guys weren't counting on me too." If Duster knew why it was important for him to be a thief, he could decide for himself if it was worthwhile. If there was a reason, he wasn't privy to it. As things stood, being a thief was some awful tradition passed down from father to son, the meaning and purpose of which had long been forgotten. He was acting out a story that someone else had come up with, for reasons he didn't understand.

"We can get by on our own for one show," OJ assured him. "So why'd a responsible thief like Duster ever join up with a sorry bunch like us in the first place?"

"Because it was something I _wanted_ to do," Duster explained, "not something I _had_ to do." The first time he picked up a bass the instrument practically molded itself to his hand. The deep, resonant notes sent shivers up his spine. He took to music like a duck to water, and the guys in DCMC were nothing but supportive. Duster never felt more alive than he did when playing before a crowd.

It was more than that, though. When he played he could tune out the rest of the world, even himself. When he was up on stage he was no longer Duster the thief, but a different man altogether: Lucky, so named for how he felt in those few fleeting moments.

"Sometimes the things you want have to take a back seat," Duster concluded. "Like I said, I've got responsibilities."

"It's your old man, isn't it?" asked OJ. "The guy with the white hair and the stylish beard and mustache."

"How'd you know?" asked Duster.

"Same hairline," OJ explained. "You don't have to tell me about taking care of family, Lucky. I've been down that road. It's not easy, but you don't have to give up on your dreams to do it."

"You don't know what he's like," said Duster. "If he knew I was off playing bass with you guys he'd toss me out in a heartbeat." He wasn't looking for Wess's approval; he'd given up any hope of that a long time ago. Still, he wanted to avoid his father's outright disdain. "Who would take care of him then?"

"Some people are just stubborn," OJ asserted. "But when he needs help and doesn't have anyone else to turn to, you can still be there with a smile on your face ready to weather anything he might throw your way."

"No matter how much of a pain he is, he's still my father," said Duster. "I can't leave him all alone."

"You don't have to," OJ assured him. "If playing with the band meant you wouldn't have enough time to take care of your family I'd tell you to drop that bass and never look back. It doesn't sound to me like that's what's going on, though."

Duster shook his head. "No. But I still couldn't do both if he knew."

"Why not?" asked OJ. "Because he wouldn't let you? Because he'd sooner die than be a musician's old man?"

"Maybe," Duster admitted.

"Let me tell you a thing or two about responsibility, my friend. You can only be responsible for things you have control over. That doesn't include his approval; that's on him. He can throw a fit about what you do or where you live or whoever you shack up with and there's not much you can do. In return you can get in his face to remind him that you're ready to help whenever he needs it. That might be all you _can_ do. Even if he wants to be a big pain in the butt about it, you do what you think is right."

"It's one thing to say it, but another to live it, OJ," said Duster. "You're not wrong, but that doesn't mean you're right. You know what I'm saying?"

"No, I feel you," said OJ. "I'm just a guy who doesn't know what he's talking about. You know your stuff better than I do. So don't listen to me. But don't listen to your old man, either. You listen to you. Just know that if you need a place to crash the guys and I have got you covered."

Duster pondered the idea. It sat heavy on his brow, the weight of a decision he couldn't know the consequences of, and yet it was a decision only he could make – indeed, it was the only decision he could remember that was really his. He'd lived his life on rails so far, but he now realized he didn't have to.

"No one wants you to forget Duster the responsible thief," OJ assured him. "Like it or not, that's still you. But if you want, you can be Lucky too, and we'd all be lucky to have you."

OJ smiled the same way he had when Duster first met him. It was genuine, supportive. Duster hung his head, knowing he had a decision to make but unsure of the answer.

"You don't have to decide right now," OJ reminded him.

Duster sighed. "Yes I do. If I don't do it now then either it won't get done at all or it might get decided for me."

"If you say so, buddy."

Duster rubbed his forehead. "I'm not sure what to do," he admitted, "so let's ask destiny."

"Stone-Sheet-Clippers?"

"Stone-Sheet-Clippers." It was as good a solution as any, one that Duster could be content with no matter how things turned out in the end. "If I win I stay good ol' responsible Duster. If you win . . . we'll see what happens."

"You're sure about this?" OJ asked.

"I'm sure," Duster confirmed. "Ready?"

"Alright, let's do this."

"Stoooone, sheeeet, clippers!" they both chanted together.


	9. Dad

"Daaad!" Claus shouted as he stepped outside into the bright morning sunlight.

"Over here, Claus," Flint hollered back.

The boy ran over to his father, who was kneeling down next to a broken bit of the fence. "What'cha doing?" he asked.

"One of the sheep got a little anxious," Flint explained, holding up his hammer for Claus to see. "Was there something you needed?"

"Nope, just wondering where you were." He peered over his father's shoulder to get a better look.

"Well since you're not busy, you can get started on your chores," said Flint. "There's a dog that needs walking and some sheep that need fresh water. Oh, and I need you to see if Isaac has any good planks of wood to help shore up this here fence."

"Oh, uh, yeah! Sure thing," said Claus, his eyes darting around as though he was searching for an excuse to slack off. "I'll take care of that just as soon as Lucas gets up. You know how lazy he is, though, and you always say many hands make light work. Right?"

"Mm-hmm," Flint grumbled. Lucas wasn't the only lazy son he had to put up with.

"Hey dad?" Claus asked while pacing around behind the man. "I got a question."

Flint didn't take his eyes off his work, since _somebody_ around here had to do some. "Hmm?"

"When we were at the festival the other day, mom said something about you asking her to dance there a long time ago," Claus continued while rocking back and forth on his heels. "How'd you do it?"

"Not much to it," said Flint. "Open your mouth and waggle your tongue until words come out. I figured you for an expert in that."

Claus gave Flint a nasty look, knowing he wouldn't see. "No, dad! I mean, you know, HOW. How'd you know she'd say yes?"

Flint shrugged. "I didn't."

"But she might've turned you down!"

"Well, that's the risk you run," said Flint. "But it helped we were already acquainted."

"You were?" Claus had probably heard his mom tell that story before, but if so he hadn't been paying attention.

Flint tapped a nail into place in the fence. "Mm-hmm. You can thank Lisa for that."

"Really?" asked Claus. "Lisa?"

"Yep," Flint nodded. "Even back then she had her nose in everybody's business, but that's not always a bad thing if you catch my meaning."

Claus scratched his head. "Huh?"

"She made a special point of getting your mother and I to spend time together," Flint explained.

"Oh." Lisa had always come off as friendly in Claus's eyes, though even he knew she could be a real busybody. "So I guess you two already knew each other pretty well then."

"Well enough."

"And she said yes? Just like that?" Claus didn't believe it could be as simple as his father made it sound.

That finally got a rise out of Flint, who turned to look back at his son with indignantly. "For cryin' out loud, all I did was ask her to dance. It's not like I popped the question right then and there."

"Sorry. I guess it's not a big deal or anything," Claus apologized. "But weren't you nervous though?"

"Not especially," Flint answered matter-of-factly.

"Why not?"

"Well, either she'd say yes or she'd say no. I liked my odds."

"But what if she said no?" Claus probed.

Flint shrugged. "It wouldn't have been the end of the world."

"If you say so." Claus resumed pacing back and forth, which signaled to Flint that he could return his attention to the fence. Unfortunately it was only a brief reprieve from Claus's questions. "What was mom like back then?"

"Pretty much the same as now," said Flint.

"Really?"

"Oh, she's a few years wiser," Flint admitted upon reflection. "A few years tougher, too. But other than that, she's the same as ever."

"I kinda figured she'd be, y'know, different somehow," Claus said quietly as he sat down behind his father.

"I'd hope not," Flint said thoughtfully. "She was the kindest, most patient, and most loving woman I'd ever met. That's every bit as true today as it was back then."

"But moms are supposed to be like that," Claus insisted.

"You'd think so," said Flint as he fitted another nail into place. "They're just people, though, and people aren't always perfect. You think about how good your really have it with your mother. And maybe cut her some slack when she's not everything you think she ought to be."

"I know," said Claus. "It's still weird to think that she was the same as she is now, though. Her life must've been so different back then."

"Oh, things were different for sure," said Flint. "Easier, I'd reckon, back before she had to worry about you rascals. But easy gets boring after a while; it makes you antsy. A little hard work over a long time and you find all those rough edges getting smoothed off until you're left with the person who was inside all along."

"The person inside, huh?" asked Claus. "How can you tell what's inside?"

"No real trick to it," said Flint. "It's all about consistency. When you get down to brass tacks, there's no changing who somebody is. Oh sure, a person can become a better or worse version of themselves, but they'll still be who they really are deep down."

"What about you?" Claus wondered. "Were you the same too?"

"I'd like to think I'm a little smarter than I used to be," said Flint. "But aside from losing a bit of hair here and there, I don't reckon I've changed too much."

"Wait a minute." A frightful realization suddenly dawned on Claus. "If you lost your hair, then am I gonna . . . ?"

Flint cracked a wicked little smile, preferring to let the silence speak for him.

"C'mon, dad!" Claus pleaded. "It's not funny!"

The cowboy pondered the question. "It's hard to say with things like that."

"Daaad!"

Flint chuckled. "Take it easy, Claus. You won't have to worry about that for a long time."

Those words didn't seem to comfort to Claus, who was anxiously running his fingers through his hair to check for thin spots. "But I don't wanna go bald!"

"Your mother says it makes me look distinguished," Flint reassured his son.

"I don't want to look 'distinguished'," a red-faced Claus insisted. "I _want_ to look cool!"

"Well you look pretty 'cool' to me, son." Flint reached back and tousled Claus's hair.

"Ack!" Claus pulled away and tried to fix his hair while his dad went back to work. He spent a few seconds sulking before pestering his father with yet another question. "Hey, dad?"

"Hmm?"

"Be honest. Would mom have still said yes to that dance if you were bald back then?"

"I reckon she would've," Flint answered.

"Yeah?"

"A good woman looks at a lot more than a head of hair," Flint reassured his son.

Claus wasn't convinced, but he didn't say so. He was already too scared to ask anyone to dance in the first place (not that he even _could_ dance), and now on top of that he also had to worry about losing his hair. So far this conversation had not been the shot of confidence he was hoping for.

Flint didn't like to let on, but he could pick up on his son's mood pretty easily. He wasn't one to pry, but he could still offer some words of encouragement. "I suppose your mother thought I had a good heart. Women have a sense for that sort of thing, you know. You keep on doing what you do, Claus, and everybody'll see that heart of yours, too."

"You really think so?"

"Mm-hmm," Flint said with a sincere nod. "No matter how much time goes by, you'll still be the same person with the same heart, and folks will know it. You show off that big heart of yours and you'll never have to worry about getting turned down for a dance."

Those words seemed to do the trick, bringing a bright smile to Claus's face. "You sound pretty sure of that."

Flint laughed. "Well, I wound up with your mother. I must've done something right."

Claus may not have been as certain as his father was, but it was at least worth thinking about. "Hey, um . . . thanks, dad."

"Any time." Flint tipped his hat slightly.

Claus stood up again to dust himself off when the front door opened and Lucas stepped out. "Claus?" he called out.

"Over here!" Claus answered back.

"About time," Flint grumbled. "You boys better get to those chores, now. And don't forget the wood."

Claus grinned. "You got it, dad!"


	10. A Dog and His Boy

Boney lazily glanced over at the sheep, huddled under cover and out of the drizzle. He couldn't exactly blame them, either. He circled around in front of his dog house a couple times before flopping down in his usual spot. The dog didn't have much love for the rain itself, but the worst part about it was that everyone stayed inside and left him with nothing to do. It was getting to that time of the year, though; soon enough the trees would be changing colors and then the snow would start falling.

He scratched himself with his hind leg before getting up to pace some more. Having nothing to do always made him anxious. He'd much rather be inside with everyone, but somebody had to keep an eye on the sheep. If it wasn't for him they could (and usually would) get into all kinds of trouble – unless, of course, it was raining. They wouldn't go anywhere in the rain. Boney told himself that even if the sheep weren't going to get up to no good he still had to watch for anyone sneaking up on the house. As if that would happen. Nobody wandered around on days like this.

Boney had been surprised to see Claus take off earlier that morning, before it started to rain. He'd offered to take the boy for a walk, as usual, but Claus told him to stay where he was and promised to be back soon. The funny thing was that he'd left without Lucas for once. Maybe Claus would return before long and give Boney something to do.

He laid back down in his doghouse, facing the back this time and hoping this position would prove more comfortable than the last. Bored, bored, bored. There weren't even any bugs for him to chase. Maybe a stray dog would wander by that he could fend off to break up the tedium. With any luck there would be a break in the clouds and things would pick up, but Boney wasn't exactly holding his breath.

The front door made a soft click that Boney's ears picked up on right away. He jumped up so fast that he bopped his head on the roof. Tail wagging, he ran to greet whoever was coming outside. It was Lucas, wearing a raincoat with the hood up. He greeted his dog with a smile and a pat on the head.

"Hey there, Boney!" he said cheerily. "Have you seen Claus?"

"Woof! (He left earlier. Do you want to go find him together?)"

"No, that's okay," said Lucas.

Boney whined. "(Are you sure? I've got a really good nose for finding things.)"

"I shouldn't," said Lucas. "If he left without telling me then he probably wants to be alone."

Boney cocked his head to the side. "(Why would he want that?)"

"You'd have to ask him," said Lucas. "But if he needs some time by himself, that's okay."

Boney sniffed at the boy. "Woof! (You don't sound like it's okay.)"

"Is it that obvious?" asked Lucas. "I'm worried."

"(Why?)"

Lucas shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. I guess I shouldn't be. He's fine, I'm sure, but . . ."

Boney circled around Lucas's feet. "Woof! (But what?)"

Lucas quietly stepped away from the door and into the yard with Boney hot on his heels. "I'm afraid something might happen."

Boney trailed alongside Lucas, patiently waiting for the boy to continue in his own time. He knew Lucas would always manage to say what he needed to if he was given the chance.

"You know how I lived that other life, right?" Lucas went on. "In that other world where everything went wrong?"

Of course Boney knew. Lucas had told Claus all about it many times.

"I . . . might not have told Claus everything." Lucas wrung his hands. "I still don't think he should know what happened to him. Look, you can't tell anybody what I'm about to say. Especially Claus."

Boney was nothing if not obedient. Lucas should have known his secret would be safe.

Satisfied, Lucas took a deep breath and continued. "When Claus disappeared, he didn't die." Boney could see the pain in the boy's eyes as he recounted what happened. "He was hurt. Badly. And he was found by somebody that . . . that hurt him even more."

Boney's fur bristled at the thought of his family coming to harm. He let out a low growl without even realizing it.

Lucas stroked his back to calm him down. "I've been worried that it might happen again. I know that everything's safe here. Everybody's happy. There aren't any soldiers or chimeras." Lucas's face fell and his shoulders drooped. "But everything back there was safe, too. I used to think that nothing bad would ever happen, but I was wrong. What if I'm wrong again?"

Boney had no answers. Dogs like him never dealt with what-ifs and should-haves. For him, all that mattered was what was happening at the moment. Humans lived too long to appreciate that.

"I used to think that I was missing something without him," Lucas went on, unburdening himself, "and if I had him back everything would be okay again. And in a way it is. He's here with me again. He's here to make me smile and laugh . . . and to get on my nerves, sometimes. I wouldn't trade that for the world." He hesitated before going on, afraid of admitting the next part out loud. "But even though he's here now, it still hurts. It's like something's broken deep inside me and I can't fix it. I can't stop worrying that he'll leave and I'll never see him again."

Lucas knelt down beside Boney, the dog jumping up to lick him on the face. "Woof! (I know what that's like. Every time you guys leave me by myself I worry you won't come back, but you always have!)"

"What if we didn't, though?" asked Lucas.

The thought of being left all alone like Lucas had been elicited another whine from Boney.

Seeing the drooping of his dog's ears, Lucas gave Boney a comforting pat. "Sorry. I'm just being moody. What I'm saying is that it's easy to trust things will be okay when they always have been. But for me, things haven't always turned out alright. It's been hard to trust that nothing bad will happen."

Boney gave another whine. "(I don't know about trust, but I sure hope you'll come back every time you leave. And every time you do I'll make sure you know I've missed you.)"

"I'm probably worrying over nothing," said Lucas. "I keep telling myself that things are fine. We're all together again. I should be happy . . . but I'm not. If I can't be happy with all of this, then will I ever be happy again?"

"Woof! (Of course!)"

The dog's certainty brought a smile to Lucas's face. Maybe Boney was right. Despite everything, Lucas had found the strength to go on, to keep fighting no matter how bad it got. He wasn't about to give up now that things were finally the way they should be.

Then again, that was the problem: he wasn't fighting anymore and things weren't so bad. The same strength that saw him through the worst years of his life had become the very thing keeping him from accepting the new world he found himself in. "I wish I could forget what happened."

Boney nuzzled up against Lucas. "(Do you remember when I came to live with you guys?)"

Lucas smiled. "Yeah. You were a lot smaller then. Dad could carry you with one hand."

Boney laid down and gave a hushed bark. "(I was really scared. I was hungry and cold and all alone when your dad found me.)"

Lucas sat down beside his dog, stroking Boney's back soothingly. "We called you Boney because you were so thin."

"(I thought I was gonna die.)"

"Dad thought so too," Lucas told him. "But he brought you home anyway. He said there was always hope if you keep trying."

Boney placed his head in Lucas's lap, looking up with his big, brown eyes. "(Do you remember staying up with me? You held onto me and wrapped us both in all those old blankets.)"

"Mom fed you sheep's milk," Lucas reminisced. "And Claus would keep you company until he passed out every night."

"(Your dad would even sing to help me sleep.)"

The mention of his dad's singing brought a glowing smile to Lucas's face. "Oh yeah! I forgot all about that. I think it was a lullaby he used to sing for me and Claus. I haven't thought about that in forever." Lucas rarely got to see his father's tender side, but it was in there.

Boney licked the boy's hand affectionately. "(You guys saved me.)"

"It wasn't easy," Lucas had to admit. Reliving those days when none of them were sure if Boney would survive the night reminded him of old worries that he'd long since put to rest. "You pulled through in the end, though."

Boney lifted his head up to Lucas and looked him in the eye. "(I can't forget what happened before I met you, but every day since then has been a lot better. I have so many good memories with you all that the old, bad ones don't matter anymore. You'll have lots of good memories too, Lucas. Just give it time.)"

"So I need to be patient, then." Lucas sighed. "I'll try."

"(Until then, I'll be here to help. We can play or go for walks or curl up in those old blankets if you want.)"

"Thanks, Boney. I'll keep that in mind."

"(Do you want to find Claus now?)" Boney suggested. "(I know he'll help too, if you let him.)"

"Yeah," Lucas nodded. "Let's go find him."

* * *

[A/N: Hey everyone, just a quick heads-up: if you have any favorite characters that you want to see get some time in the spotlight, let me know. I'll see what I can do about getting them a place to shine.]


	11. Monkey's Tango

"So I kinda put my feet like . . . so?"

Salsa shook his head, worried that the kid would never get it right. Samba, on the other hand, was more proactive and ran over to spread Claus's feet further apart.

"Oh, okay. And I bend my knees. Right?"

Samba hopped up on the boy's back, forcing him to bend down lower.

"Gotcha. Um, how did the arms go again?"

Salsa sighed before standing up to demonstrate once more. Feet apart, knees bent, hands at the sides, shake those hips, reach for the sky, backflip, jazz hands. It could hardly be simpler.

Claus was mystified, then looked back down at his knees. "Uh-huh. So . . . what do I do with my feet again?"

Tessie had been kind enough to let Claus have the room for the day since it was a slow time of year for the Yado Inn. She might have thought twice if Claus had told her what he needed it for. Especially the part about the monkeys.

"Okay, I think I got it now," Claus said after some more practice. He spread his feet apart, bent his knees, put his hands to the side in (almost) the right position, and swiveled his hips. Well, maybe not "swiveled" so much as "jerked". It didn't help that he was looking down at himself the whole time to make sure he was doing it right. Some music would have been useful too. Salsa and Samba could only look on with a mix of disbelief and horror at the way the boy was butchering such a simple dance. Needless to say, he did not complete the backflip.

"Are you sure this is right?"

Both monkeys shook their heads. This was definitely not right.

"No, I mean I don't think this is the right kind of dance," Claus explained. "How am I supposed to dance with anybody like this?"

Salsa and Samba both rolled their eyes. Claus could have explained earlier that he wanted to learn how to dance with a partner instead of just asking them to teach him to dance. This called for a new strategy. The pair stood up together, bowed, and then took hold of one another to demonstrate a simple waltz. Step-step-turn, step-step-turn. Repeat until the music stops. So easy even Claus couldn't mess this one up.

Claus eyed the pair closely, studying their movements until they finished with a dip and another bow. "That doesn't look too hard," he said. "So my feet go here. Right? Then I step to the side with one foot, and then the other and . . . turn?"

Both monkeys nodded as he aped their dance. His movements were stilted and uneven, but he seemed to at least grasp the concept this time. Of course he would never get the hang of it without a real partner to practice with. That realization hit them both at once, causing Salsa to turn and see a gleam in Samba's eye. With a deep sigh he leaned forward so she could climb up on his shoulders.

Claus let out a surprised yelp when Samba (atop Salsa) grabbed his hand in hers while placing the other on his shoulder. After a moment's shock he started to understand their scheme and tried to mirror the stance, only to have Samba push his hand down to roughly where the hip would be on a human, which in this case was Salsa's head.

"So, uh, do I . . . um, lead, or something?"

Samba grinned and nodded, happy to see the boy catching on.

"Oh. Oh! Uh, yeah, okay!" Claus looked down at his feet. "Um, how do I do that?"

Losing patience, Salsa gave Claus a swift swat to get him moving. It seemed to do the trick, with Claus following the steps as best as he could while the monkeys followed along, Salsa constantly on the verge of either teetering over or having his feet or tail trod on by Claus's clumsy footfalls. Samba, on the other hand, was perfectly composed and looked absolutely radiant – by monkey standards.

"Hey, I think I'm getting the hang of this!" Claus announced after a short time.

It was at that very moment that the door swung open to reveal Lucas and Boney. Everyone took a moment to stare aghast at one another. The tension was only broken when Salsa lost his balance, sending Samba toppling into Claus and knocking the boy over on his back.

"I should go," Lucas finally said as he grabbed hold of Boney and turned to make a hasty retreat.

"Wait!" Claus cried.

Lucas hesitated, unsure if he should even turn back to look again. All he knew was that he was not mean to see whatever he'd walked in on. "What?"

"C'mon, Lucas, get back here!" Claus demanded.

Lucas backpedaled into the room and glanced at the odd trio in confusion. "Let me guess: it's not what it looks like. Right?"

"Um . . ." Claus stalled, looking over at Salsa helping Samba to her feet. "Actually it's exactly what it looks like. But maybe I should explain?"

"I really don't think I want to know!" Lucas replied, his voice cracking.

"Just get in here before everyone hears you!" Claus beckoned.

Lucas closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and marched back inside the room with Boney in tow, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Salsa and Samba were teaching me how to dance," Claus explained.

The monkeys waved at Lucas. Lucas waved back politely, feeling just as much in the dark as before the explanation. "Why?" he asked.

"I asked them to," said Claus, trying to come off as nonchalant. "They're really good! C'mon, guys show my brother what you can do."

The monkeys were considering the request when Lucas interrupted. "No, Claus. Why do you need to learn how to dance?"

Claus looked away. "N-no reason."

Lucas crossed his arms and stared his brother down. "C'mon. Tell me."

"It's embarrassing, okay?"

"More embarrassing than whatever _this_ is?!" Lucas gestured toward the monkeys, who felt like a third wheel by that point.

"It doesn't matter," Claus asserted defiantly. "I just need to know how to dance."

Lucas slapped himself on the forehead. "Why are you so impossible?!"

"Why are _you_ so nosey?"

"Why do YOU have to keep everything a secret?"

"Why do _YOU_ act like the world revolves around you?!"

Boney, Salsa, and Samba looked back and forth between the boys as they traded barbs. Today was turning out to be more entertaining than any of them expected.

"I don't have to tell you!" Claus spat.

"And I think I've heard all I need to!" Lucas answered back.

Both boys turned their back on one another, folded their arms and pouted. Of course Claus wasn't about to let Lucas have the last word. "What are you even doing here?!" he demanded with his back still turned.

Lucas was glowering toward the door when he answered. "I was worried about you!"

"You don't need to treat me like a baby, Lucas! I'm fine!"

"I know you are but I'm not!"

The admission caught Claus off guard. ". . . What?"

"I don't want to lose you again!"

"You're not going to!"

"What if you're wrong?!"

"I'm not!"

"You were!"

Claus fumed at being compared to some other version of himself who was stupid enough to attack a drago with a pocket knife. "That wasn't me!"

"Yes it was!" Lucas snapped. "Just because it didn't happen here doesn't mean it didn't happen to you!"

"That me was a stupid kid!" Claus reminded his brother. "I'm way tougher than him!"

"You're still a stupid kid if you can't even take five seconds to tell me where you're going!"

"Don't call me stupid!"

"Then don't act stupid!"

"I'm not! All I did was walk into town!"

"I didn't know that!"

"You didn't need to!"

"You're being selfish!"

" _You're_ the selfish one!"

"All I want is to know you're still alive!"

"So let me live!"

"I'm not stopping you!"

"What do you want from me then?!"

"I want you to care about me!"

"I do!"

"Act like it!"

As suddenly as it began, the yelling stopped. The twins took some time to stew, neither of them wanting to be the first one to break the silence. The animals, meanwhile, did their best to keep quiet while the boys worked things out among themselves. It was only a matter of time until one of them spoke up again.

"Sorry I didn't think about you," Claus apologized after he had a minute to calm down.

"I'm sorry I yelled," said Lucas, following his brother's lead as usual. "You're right. You don't have to tell me where you'll be."

"No, _you're_ right," Claus replied. "Sometimes I forget you're counting on me."

"We're all counting on you," Lucas reminded him.

"So . . . are we good?" Claus asked.

"We're good," Lucas confirmed. "I guess I should go so you can get back to, uh, whatever this is."

"I like somebody," Claus blurted out.

That revelation threw Lucas for a loop. He spun around to see if his brother was serious, only to be met by Claus's back. Lucas was genuinely surprised to hear Claus admit something like that. Part of him still thought of his brother as the little kid who'd disappeared three years earlier. "You do?"

Claus nodded, still unwilling to show his face to his brother.

"You . . . _like_ somebody?"

"That's what I said, didn't I?!" Claus demanded, letting off that last bit of steam.

"Sorry," Lucas apologized.

"Anyway, that's why I want to learn how to dance," Claus explained.

Lucas had never seen this side of his brother before. He was timid but snippy, like an exposed nerve – the opposite of his usual demeanor. "Oh. I guess that sort of makes sense." It didn't, but then again Lucas rarely understood the way his brother's mind worked at the best of times. "Um, who is it?"

"I don't want to say," Claus mumbled, already feeling embarrassed enough without going into any more detail than he already had.

"That's okay!" Lucas quickly added, realizing his mistake. "You don't have to tell me. I shouldn't have asked."

"Don't tell anyone. Okay?" Claus asked.

"I won't," Lucas promised.

"That goes for you three, too!" Claus barked at the others.

"Woof! (Who would we tell?)" asked Boney.

"Maybe I'm wasting my time," Claus admitted. "I mean come on. Dancing? How's that supposed to work? This plan sounds kinda crazy, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," Lucas agreed. "But it's not the craziest one you've had by a long shot."

"Be honest," Claus insisted. "Do you think I have a chance? I'm not smart or handsome or cool or anything. I'm just dumb ol' Claus. How's dancing supposed to fix that?"

"Hey," said Lucas. "You're the best and don't you dare think any different."

"You just now got done telling me I was stupid," Claus reminded him.

"I didn't mean it," said Lucas. "You're actually really smart."

"I don't feel smart," Claus sulked.

"You are. You just don't always think before you act. But that's part of what makes you the best. You're fun and spontaneous and friendly and . . . any girl would be lucky to have you."

"Alright, enough," Claus gagged. "I don't need my ego stroked, thanks."

"Fine, have it your way," said Lucas. "But you did tell me you'd always believe me, didn't you?"

Claus nodded. "Mm-hmm."

"So believe me now," said Lucas.

Claus finally turned around to face Lucas again, an extra bit of pink still lingering on his cheeks. "Fine. Whatever you say, I guess."

Lucas smiled. "Hug?" he offered.

Claus grimaced. "Do we have to?"

"C'mon, you're always the one who goes in for a hug first," Lucas reminded him.

"Fine," Claus grumbled. "But don't—" He couldn't even get out the rest of his sentence before Lucas grabbed hold and squeezed.


	12. Follow the Leder

"You should've seen it, Fuel. I showed that mighty bitey snake who the real mighty one is around here." Claus was beaming with pride, kicking up his heels and hefting a large sack over his shoulder.

"Good work, dork," Fuel teased while grasping a similar satchel. "I deal with at least three of those things every day just to get to town."

"Uh-huh, sure you do," said Claus. "When you say 'deal with' I bet you mean 'run away from while screaming like a girl'. Right?"

"Tch. No way. I can stomp those snakes all day and I don't even need to hide behind psychic powers like a sissy."

"Who're you calling a sissy, spaz?" asked Claus.

"You, lame-wad."

"Butt-munch."

"Freakenstein."

"Hey, guys?" asked Lucas, who was bringing up the rear while carrying the heaviest bag of them all. "You do know those things'll leave you alone if you just run at them, right?" Judging from the looks they gave him, they did not.

"Whatever," said Claus, turning his attention back to the path ahead.

"A real man's not afraid of a fight," Fuel asserted.

Lucas smiled to himself, pleased with his small victory. The satisfying crunch of dried leaves underfoot was now the only sound accompanying the boys' walk back to town. Autumn was always the best time of year to find nuts in the forest, and today's haul had been especially good; Caroline would be busy baking for the next week thanks to them. Lucas could almost taste the nut cookies and nut bread already.

As they entered the clearing north of town Lucas heard the familiar clanging of Leder's bell. That noise always sent a shiver up his spine ever since he was little. He was always intimidated by Leder – the man's height and his silence were both more than a little unsettling. These days the sound of that bell filled him with a sense of foreboding for an altogether different reason. Every time he passed by it reminded him of something he'd been putting off for too long.

"You guys go on ahead without me," Lucas told Claus and Fuel as the three boys turned south toward Tazmily. "There's something I need to do."

"I'm sure Angie will let you use her bathroom," Fuel assured him.

"Yeah, you don't have to go in the woods like an animal," Claus added.

"What's wrong with going in the woods?" Fuel demanded to know, sounding a little defensive.

"It's gross!" Claus answered back. "What, are you supposed to wipe with a pinecone?"

"I don't have to go!" Lucas snapped at the pair. "I won't be long. Save me some bread."

"What about those?" Claus asked, nodding to the bag his brother was carrying.

Lucas sighed. "If it's that important, then you take them." He tossed the bag to Claus who almost fell over trying to catch it.

"Hey!" Claus yelped. "That's heavy!"

"Aww, is wittle baby Clausy not stwong enough?" Fuel taunted before scampering down the path and out of Claus's reach.

"I'll show you who's strong!" Claus yelled as he staggered after his friend.

Lucas waited for the other boys to get some distance away before turning his attention to the tall man. He took a deep breath before calmly walking over.

"Mr. Leder?" he asked, his arms stiff at his sides.

As expected, Leder did not respond; instead he kept on ringing his bell. Lucas worried that his voice might not have carried all the way up to the man, but he wasn't going to be easily ignored.

"Mr. Leder we need to talk," Lucas said slightly louder than before, again finding no response. "Both of us! Not just me!"

Leder didn't stop ringing the bell, but did turn to look down at Lucas with the same plaintive expression he always wore, his eyes hidden by the glare coming off his spectacles. That man always had an otherworldly quality to him – quite possibly because he was the only one who could remember the "other world" where the people of the Nowhere Islands came from. That was something he and Lucas had in common now.

"We need to talk about the Dragon," Lucas explained.

Leder appeared unfazed by Lucas's request. He remained perfectly calm, ringing his bell without missing a beat. He didn't react, but at the same time he did not turn away.

"I know all about the people of the White Ship," Lucas continued hoping to get a rise out of the man. "I know about the end of the 'world' and the Dragon that protects this place."

The clanging of the bell continued. Leder kept his eyes on Lucas, focused like an animal ready to pounce. Lucas felt like he was being probed by Leder's piercing gaze, but he shook it off and kept going, determined to get the answers he knew only the tall man could provide.

"I know more than that, too," said Lucas. "I know that there are others on the islands that didn't come here on the White Ship. People who don't belong here. Dr. Andonuts, for one. The guys from DCMC. And lots of others, too. You know they shouldn't be here, and you know that some people who _should_ be here aren't: the people who were keeping the Dragon asleep. I know you want answers. So do I. We can help each other out, but only if you talk to me."

Leder still said nothing. Lucas's face grew hotter as he worried he was wrong or he'd made a mistake. This world was different so maybe Leder was different too. Maybe he'd spilled the beans on something he shouldn't have, or maybe his words came off as gibberish to the tall man. "Answer me!"

At Lucas's urging, Leder finally spoke. His voice came out as a soft baritone. "And how exactly do you know these things?"

"Because you're the one who told me," Lucas stressed, feeling a rush of relief at Leder's response. "You told me all about it, but you don't remember anymore."

Leder took his time responding, ruminating deeply on what Lucas said. "If you know all of this, then you also know why I am here. Don't you? Remembering is my only role. It is what I do."

"I know," Lucas said sympathetically. "But the Dragon . . . I don't think it wants you to remember. When it woke up it changed everyone's memories, even yours."

Leder's expression remained unmoved, but Lucas could sense a hitch in his voice. "What do you mean the Dragon woke up?"

"I pulled the Needles that were keeping it asleep under the islands," Lucas explained. "It was supposed to remake the world and I guess it did, but it's not like I thought it would be. It did . . . _something_ and now I'm the only one who remembers what happened."

Leder paused for a long moment before responding, making the boy worry he'd said something wrong. "Lucas, the Dragon was never asleep," he finally said. "It has always watched over the Nowhere Islands since long before we arrived here on the White Ship. It protected this place from the end of the world, and it protected us as well."

"No, you're wrong," Lucas asserted. "It was asleep because it couldn't coexist with humans. The Magypsies were supposed to keep it that way until its power was needed. Then I came along and woke it up and now everything is . . . happy and peaceful and everyone's alive."

Leder pondered Lucas's concerns. "Is that a bad thing?"

"No! No, it's not." Lucas knew he must not have been making much sense. It didn't make much sense to him, honestly. "It's all I ever wanted."

Leder furrowed his brow at the boy. "Then why are you so upset?" he asked.

"I want to know what's going on!" His frustration was starting to get more obvious, both to Leder and to himself. "I want to know that everything really is okay, that I'm not going to wake up one day and lose my family all over again. I want to know what the price was for all of this."

Leder leaned down until he was almost eye-to-eye with Lucas. "If you could go back to the way things were, would you?"

Lucas closed his eyes, unable to return Leder's gaze. "I don't know!"

The man spent a few more seconds scrutinizing Lucas before standing upright again. "Perhaps you should decide before you go any further."

"Then help me decide," Lucas pleaded.

Leder gave a deep sigh. "Things were much simpler when we arrived here," he said. "Everyone from the White Ship had a role to fill. They all had an ideal 'story' to play out. They knew what they wanted, even if they couldn't remember knowing. Children like you, though? The ones born after we arrived? You have no such stories. I cannot make your decision for you. You'll have to determine what you want on your own."

Frustrated, Lucas rubbed his scalp. "What about the people that didn't come on the White Ship, huh?" he asked. "What role do they have? What are their stories?"

"I do not know," Leder admitted. "However they came to be here, they have not threatened the peace in Tazmily. Neither do they seem to have any more memory of the previous world than the villagers do. Strangers or not, they belong here every bit as much as we do."

"They were brought here by somebody else," said Lucas. "But that person and all his things . . . they don't exist anymore. Everything he did was undone, except that the people he brought are still here. That has to mean something!"

"You would know better than I," Leder pointed out. "If what you say is true and this world has changed, then whatever made those changes surely decided which changes to make."

Lucas sighed. "The Dragon. This is all the Dragon's doing. It has to be. But I don't know why it did this."

"I would be surprised if you did," said Leder. "The Dragon has protected these islands since ancient times, but no one knows why. Even if we wanted to find out, we would not know how to begin, as no one has ever seen the Dragon with their own eyes. It has never done us any harm, though."

"If it doesn't want to hurt us then why would the Dragon make me remember everything that happened?!" asked Lucas. "Everyone gets to be happy except me!" Lucas choked out that last bit, exposing the raw wound festering in his heart.

Leder could hear the pain in Lucas's words. It was a pain he knew very well. "I am sorry," he said. "I know how lonely it can be to be the only one who remembers."

Lucas was shaking. "I want to know why . . ." he hissed.

"I do not know," Leder was forced to admit. "I can only tell you that in my case I was to 'keep watch' over things. We decided that it was essential for one person retain memory of the previous world in order to ensure that Tazmily would be a peaceful and happy place. Looking at the state of things, I think I can say it has been worthwhile."

"So what are you saying?" asked Lucas. "You think I'm the one who has to 'keep watch' over things now because I'm the only one who remembers? Well nobody asked me. It's not fair."

"I suppose not," said Leder. "But it wasn't fair that I just happened to be the tallest, either. Even so, I knew it was a job only I could perform. Thanks to that, Tazmily and its people have thrived. I may not have a family or friends like you think of them, but to me, everyone in Tazmily is like family."

"I can't live like that," said Lucas. "I can't cut myself off from everybody. I can't lie to them about the past. Maybe you think you're doing something noble by living all by yourself and pretending to be a mute, but that's not something I can do."

"Noble?" The sentiment genuinely caught Leder off guard. "No, no, no, Lucas. Retaining my memories was my duty, but living as I have . . . that was my choice. I am ashamed to say it was something I did for selfish reasons."

Lucas frowned. "Why then?"

Leder once again gave a defeated sigh. "Because it would hurt too much to love someone and be unable to share my life with them. I had to keep the previous world a secret for the good of everyone in Tazmily, but I could not bear to lie to anyone I cared for."

"Well I'm not like you." Lucas began to stomp away in a huff.

"Lucas?"

"What?!" He shrunk at the harshness in his own voice.

Leder stroked his chin, carefully considering his words before proceeding. "If what you say is true, then I, too, have been playing a role. I wonder, whose ideal story am I living? You think it was the Dragon who decided what this world would be like. But I must ask: is the Dragon the artist, or merely the instrument?"

With that, Lucas turned away, heading back into the Sunshine Forest to be alone with his thoughts.


	13. Cookies, Bread, and Humble Pie

Fuel had a long-standing belief that it was easier to ask for forgiveness than permission, hence why he charged through the door to Angie and Caroline's house without even knocking.

"Hey, Angie!" he called out while kicking the door closed behind him.

Despite her surprise, Angie's face lit up as soon as he walked in. "Hi, Fuel!"

Fuel proudly held up the sack he was carrying. "Look what I got!"

"Oh no," she groaned. "Please tell me it's not—"

"More nuts!" he interrupted her.

"Back again, Fuel?" Caroline asked from the kitchen. "I swear you spend so much time here that your father must be getting jealous."

"Nah, he's got all the help he needs," said Fuel. "So what do you think? Is it a good day for cookies?"

Caroline sized up the delivery. "It looks like you got quite a lot today. You must have been busy to find all these. I guess I'd better preheat the oven."

"Mooom," Angie groaned. "Are we gonna be baking all day _again_?"

"It'll hardly be all day," Caroline said as she accepted the bag. "Would you like to help, Fuel? I know you love these when they're fresh out of the oven."

"Sure thing, Ms. Caroline!"

"Well, I guess it'll be nice to have help," Angie admitted, happy to have Fuel's company even if it meant more baking. Still, it would be nice if he'd come by simply to visit once in a while instead of always wanting something. "Just make sure you wash your hands. Who knows where they've been."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Fuel objected. "All I've done today is gather some nuts."

"Yeah, yeah," Angie said dismissively. "I know what sort of stuff you get up to."

Fuel grinned. "Unlike most guys, I'm not afraid to get my hands dirty."

*Slam!*

"Aha!" Claus exclaimed as he burst into the room. "Not so fast!" Fuel regretted not locking the door behind him.

"Good to see you too, Claus," Caroline said with a slight hint of irritation.

"I got here first," said Fuel. "Get in line."

"But I brought more nuts than you!" Claus countered, showing off both of the bags he was lugging.

"Your brother found most of those," Fuel muttered.

"Well since you're here, you can help too," Caroline offered.

"Mom, I'm not sure that's a good idea," Angie pointed out.

"Why not?" Claus asked indignantly.

"Well . . ." Angie took a moment to figure out a tactful way to phrase it. She then abandoned that idea altogether. "Fuel can at least crack an egg, but you'd be lucky not to burn a glass of water."

Claus looked pretty steamed at the suggestion that he couldn't cook. "If Fuel can do it then how hard could it be?"

"Don't take it personally," Fuel said with a very self-satisfied smirk. "You never learned, is all. Why would you when you've got your mommy to do everything for you?" Fuel was lucky Claus's hands were full. He was unlucky that Claus was a psychic with no self-control. "Ahh!" he yelped as a jolt of electricity shot up his leg. "Not cool!"

"Alright, boys. Settle down," Caroline warned them. "Fuel, dear, grab the flour. Angie?"

"Yeah, mom?" asked Angie.

"Keep an eye on Claus."

Angie groaned, already resenting her duty as babysitter. She had Claus set his bags on the counter and wash his hands before touching anything. By the time he was done she had reappeared with aprons for both him and Fuel, and had put on one herself.

Angie had become something of an expert at making nut cookies and bread thanks to her mom. The recipes were simple enough that she could bake a batch in her sleep, but the boys' "help" was anything but helpful. Fuel, at least, had some experience in the kitchen thanks to all the time he spent here, but he was still clumsy. Claus was hopeless, though. She stuck both of them with the hardest job to screw up: shelling nuts.

"Better pick up the pace, Claus," Fuel taunted his friend as he tossed another loose nut into the bowl.

Claus, meanwhile, was struggling to get the hang of things. He didn't say it out loud, but he'd been keeping count and he was woefully behind Fuel in terms of nuts cracked. "You're –urgh! – cheating! You gave me all the –gah! – tough ones."

"It's not _my_ fault you don't know what you're doing," Fuel replied.

"Be careful, Claus," Angie warned him. "You don't want to get your finger caught in that nutcracker.

"Yeah, don't be such a dingus," said Fuel.

"I don't need – ow!" Predictably, Claus had managed to get some skin snagged, and was now bleeding.

"Over here, dear," Caroline called over to him as she turned the sink on. Claus quickly obeyed, going over to run cold water over his wound.

"Are you okay?" Fuel asked, following behind.

Claus winced. He knew it served him right for trying to show off; it was hardly the first time he'd had to learn that lesson and it almost certainly wouldn't be the last. "Yeah. It's fine."

"I think we've got some bandages around here," Angie said as she went to look.

"Hey, it's no problem," said Fuel. "You can heal yourself, right Mr. Psychic?"

Claus hissed in pain. "Um . . . n-not really," he admitted. "Lucas is way better at that sort of stuff." As much as Claus loved to pat himself on the back over how good a psychic he was, he never got the hang of support PSI. Those techniques came so naturally to Lucas, but even a little scratch like this was too much for Claus to heal.

"Well where is he?" asked Fuel. "I thought he said he'd be right behind us."

"I'm sure he'll get here soon," said Claus. "It's not like he could get lost or anything." No sooner had he finished speaking than there was a knock at the door. "See? That's probably him now."

"Come in!" Caroline called out as she resumed stirring cookie batter in a bowl.

The door swung open with a shrill creak. It wasn't Lucas though, but Mike, who greeted Caroline with a smile and a tip of his hat, carefully shutting the door behind him and wiping his feet. "Hello, everyone! I hope I'm not interrupting."

"Not at all," Caroline said warmly. "What brings you by?"

"A little bird told me that somebody was baking cookies," he said.

"I'm sure they won't be as good as yours," said Angie, looking up from the drawer she was rummaging through.

Mike laughed at that. "You're a sweet girl, Angie, but a terrible liar. My cookies are all slightly unclean and not very tasty; they can't compare to your mother's."

"Well you can have some as soon as they're ready, just like everyone else," said Caroline.

"You're too good to me, Caroline. If all the other women around here paid me half as much mind as you I'd always have a full belly and a lovely view." He cackled in the way only a dirty old man could.

"That's still sexual harassment, Mike," Caroline chided him without missing a beat. "We've been over this."

"Bah! It's getting to where a man can't even pay a compliment these days."

"Think about the example you're setting for the boys." Caroline motioned toward Fuel and Claus.

"Don't you put that on me," Mike objected. "Those little hoodlums were already bad long before I got to 'em. They remind me of my own grandkids: can't even be bothered to spend time with me, the little ingrates."

"Here you are, Claus," Angie said as she approached him with a bandage.

"Thanks," he said, holding up his finger to her and feeling like a total klutz for having such a stupid accident.

"There," said Angie as she finished wrapping his injury. "It's not bad, but I don't think you'll be much more use in the kitchen."

Claus chuckled. "I was already pretty useless to begin with."

"Oh now I get it," said Fuel. "Give yourself a little booboo and leave all the work to me, huh? I'm on to you."

"You're too clever for me, Fuel," Claus replied. He took off his apron and went to sit down, suddenly feeling drained.

"Quit your whining," Mike told Fuel. "I was cracking nuts with my bare hands at half your age. And I liked it, too!"

Things went on like that for a while. Before long the first cookies were in the oven and everyone had a chance to chat without distraction. Claus remained aloof, though. As the minutes ticked by, he started feeling more and more anxious. Lucas still hadn't shown up. It wasn't like him to disappear without telling anyone.

"Hey, I'm gonna go look for Lucas," Claus announced as he stood to go.

"Don't you want to stay until the cookies are done?" asked Caroline.

"No, it's okay. I'll come back later," said Claus.

"I can find him if you're still hurt," Fuel offered.

"No, I'm fine. Really," Claus reassured his friend. "Besides, when I find Lucas he can heal me right up."

Fuel held up his hands. "If you insist."

"Well, let us know when you do find him," said Angie. "I bet he'll be hungry."

"That boy doesn't eat enough," Mike grumbled. "He's so thin he'll even come around sometimes begging for cookies. Slightly unclean and not very tasty cookies. That's no kind of meal for a growing boy."

Claus slipped out through the door and looked around. He asked Ollie if Lucas had come through town, but to no avail. The concern that had been building up rapidly matured into real dread. He told himself that Lucas couldn't have gone too far, but the more he racked his brain the less sense it made. Why would Lucas just wander off? What did he need to do in the first place? Claus could kick himself for not finding out even that much. With how worried Lucas had been about him, he wondered if he should be more concerned for Lucas.


	14. Help Me Help You

Lucas stormed past Isaac's house, his jaw clenched tight and his vision red. He was already kicking his shoes off as he approached the hot spring, hoping (ironically) that it would help him cool down. Unfortunately when he arrived he found it already occupied.

"G'morning, Lucas!" Bud called out as soon as he saw him.

"Here for a dip?" asked Lou.

Both men waved at him, to which he replied in kind. This wouldn't do at all. The last thing he wanted right now was company.

"Sorry to bother you," was the best Lucas could manage to say through his teeth as he turned to go, grabbing up his shoes as he went. Maybe if he headed deeper into the woods he could find somewhere to be alone with his frustrations. As he turned, however, he nearly ran straight into a third man who was coming up behind him.

"Alright, you slackers!" Lighter bellowed as he came toward the spring, stepping past Lucas. "You've been on break long enough! We've got a lot more work to get through today!"

"You got it, boss!" Lou said as he scrambled out of the water to get dressed.

"We're on it!" Bud added.

Satisfied, Lighter swung around, finally seeming to notice Lucas standing there. "Morning, Lucas," he said politely.

"Good morning, Mr. Lighter," Lucas responded in a quiet voice.

"You were hanging out with Fuel, right?" Lighter asked. "Where's that boy run off to now?"

"In town with Claus," said Lucas, doing his best to keep his answers short.

Lighter raised an eyebrow, taking notice of Lucas's foul mood."Is everything alright?" he asked.

"It's fine," Lucas said curtly.

"Well, if you see Fuel, you tell him to head home," said Lighter. "There's too much work to do for him to spend all day playing."

"He's not playing," Lucas muttered.

"What's that?"

Lucas bit his tongue, knowing he'd only made this conversation longer than it needed to be. "He was gathering nuts for Ms. Caroline," Lucas explained, "so she could make bread. You do want something to eat later, don't you?"

Lighter scratched at his stubble. "Hmm. True enough. But he's still got work to take care of here. How am I supposed to corral Bud and Lou if I can't even get my own kid to do his job?" At that moment Bud and Lou hurried past the pair on their way back to work, smiling to Lucas while getting a stern glare from Lighter.

Lucas could have left it at that, but he was already in the thick of it and the better part of his nature won out. He spoke up in his friend's defense. "Maybe he'd be better off helping Ms. Caroline out instead," Lucas pointed out. "He enjoys it; plus he spends enough time there anyway. Bud and Lou should be all the help you need."

"You'd think so," Lighter grumbled. "I see your point, Lucas, but Fuel belongs here. You and Claus help your old man with the sheep, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," Lucas acknowledged, "but we don't mind. Shouldn't it be up to us if we want to do something else, though?"

"Of course," said Lighter. "And when you're older that's a choice you get to make, but until then you listen to your folks."

"It doesn't seem fair though."

"I'm sure it doesn't, but you'll understand when you grow up a bit." Lighter knew it was a cliché thing to say, but as much as he hated to admit it, it was applicable here. When had he become so old? "If I left it up to Fuel he'd do nothing but goof off all the time. Where would that leave him? It might not seem fair now, but in a few years he'll thank me."

"But what if he wants to do something different with his life?" Lucas persisted. "Shouldn't he learn how to do it now?"

"In an ideal world, sure," Lighter acknowledged. "But things aren't so black and white. When you're young, it's hard to know what you want to do when you're older. It's even harder to know what job you'll actually wind up with. The best I can do is make sure he's ready for whatever life throws his way."

"I still think he'd have a better idea of what he wants than you," Lucas muttered.

Lighter couldn't help but smile. "You know, you remind me a lot of your old man."

Lucas wasn't sure if he should take that as a compliment. "What do you mean?"

"Me and him go way back," Lighter explained. "Been friends since we were your age or so – maybe younger. He always fancied himself as the heroic sort. Wanted to be the one who protected this town."

"He kinda is," Lucas pointed out.

"No argument here," Lighter acknowledged. "The only problem is that Tazmily hardly needs any protecting, does it? Sure, me and him did more than our share of fighting back in the day, but a few bats and snakes aren't gonna do much harm. We get a flood or a fire every few years, sure, but that's not the sort of thing that needs a full-time hero, now is it."

"I guess not," Lucas admitted.

"Now a shepherd, on the other hand. That's handy to have around," Lighter continued. "Do you see what I mean, Lucas? Your old man has a job to do, but he still gets to do the thing he always wanted on top of that – not because it's his job, but because it's who he is deep down."

"Yes, Mr. Lighter."

"Alright, then. You be sure to pass on that message to Fuel when you see him. I've got to get back to it." With that, Lighter turned to go.

With a sigh, Lucas went to the hot spring and slipped in. He understood Lighter's point, but it didn't help him with his particular problem. All Lucas ever wanted was a simple, peaceful life with his friends and family around him. He never wanted to be Tazmily's protector; it was a role he'd been forced into, and now it demanded a terrible price from him. He seemed doomed to suffer alone as the sole protector of Tazmily's true history. Even sharing what happened with Claus and Boney only helped so much. This was the world he'd fought so hard for but he was the only one who couldn't enjoy it because the Dragon had a sick sense of humor.

Even though he was afraid of history repeating itself, Lucas wasn't convinced that anyone needed to remember what happened. He didn't have a choice, though. Instead he was left with the same decision Leder had been given: to either spend the rest of his life pretending like the last three years hadn't happened, lying to everyone he cared for, or to isolate himself from everyone around him, to live an honest, but lonely life. He thought he'd found another way to handle things when he told Claus all about what happened, but that hadn't solved anything. If he told everyone, he couldn't be sure it wouldn't ruin this place, making everything he worked so hard for fall to pieces. The best outcome would be that everyone would call him crazy and he'd end up all alone, just like Leder.

Perhaps Boney was right, and in time his memories wouldn't bother him so much. Some day he might get into the flow of things in this Tazmily, and he could truly say he belonged here. He couldn't be certain though, and it would be a long time before he knew the answer.

Then there was the matter of what happened after he pulled the final Needle. There were still too many elements unaccounted for. The Dragon, the Magypsies, the people Porky had brought to the islands, and of course Porky himself. He still had questions, but after talking with Leder he'd run out of places to look for answers. This mystery had kept Lucas focused over the last few months, even though he knew deep down that it was only keeping him distracted. Whatever the answers were, they wouldn't change things. This was his life now.

A long time ago, a save frog had told Lucas something. It said that a story is a series of memories. Lucas knew how stories went. A story made up of his memories wouldn't have a happy ending. Or at least it wouldn't have _this_ happy ending. That same frog also told him that if you don't take care to preserve your memories, you'll forget them. What a joke. All he wanted was to forget those memories.

"So that's where you are."

Lucas's eyes shot open to see Claus standing over him.

"What's the big idea?" asked Claus. "What happened to 'I won't be long'?"

"Sorry," Lucas apologized.

"If you wanted to take a bath you could've said so," Claus pointed out as he sat down on the bank of the spring. He took off his shoes and socks to dip his feet in the water. "I was worried."

"I said I was sorry."

"You were the one who got all upset that I didn't tell you where I was going just a little while ago," Claus reminded him with a frown. "And then you turn around and wander off without a word."

"I know!" Lucas snapped. "I didn't mean to worry you."

Claus sighed. "You're thinking about it again, aren't you?"

Lucas nodded.

"I'm all out of ideas," Claus admitted. "You come to me and tell me about what you went through and expect that I can help, but I don't know how! You won't talk to mom and dad about it, and when I try to get you to come have fun with me and Fuel you go off on your own to sulk! What do you want from me?"

"Nothing," Lucas spat back. "I don't want anything. So you can leave me alone now. That's what you want to hear, isn't it?"

"I thought you were past this," Claus answered. "And if you weren't then you should have told me so. I don't even know if I CAN help, but I definitely can't if you won't let me try. Let me help, Lucas. I'm begging you!"

"If I knew what would help I'd tell you," said Lucas.

"You're not even trying, though!"

"Don't tell me I'm not trying, Claus!"

"What happened?" Claus demanded to know. "I thought we were having a good time today. We should be at Angie's place baking cookies and making fun of Fuel! So why are you here, huh?"

"If you want to go back then go. I'm not stopping you."

Claus was done waiting for Lucas to volunteer information. If he was going to help his brother, he needed to know everything. "Tell me what happened!"

Lucas sighed, looking down into the swirling, bubbling water. "I talked to Mr. Leder."

"Mr. Leder?" Claus asked indignantly. "What could you possibly talk to Mr. Leder about? He doesn't talk back!"

"Forget it. It doesn't matter." If Claus wasn't going to hear him out then there was no point in explaining.

"Yes it does, Lucas!" Claus gesticulated. "What, did he mime something mean at you? Did a game of charades get out of hand? Do I need to get a ladder so I can climb up and kick his ass? Give me a hint, here!"

"Shut up, Claus. You're not funny."

"I'm not trying to be!"

"Then listen to me!"

"I would if you'd just talk!"

"Fine!" Lucas took a deep breath. "You remember what I told you about Mr. Leder, don't you?"

"Yeah, sure. Something about a bunch of people on a boat." Of all the stories Lucas had told him, that one was the strangest.

"Close enough." Whether or not Claus remembered the details, Lucas was determined to make his point heard. "What matters is that after they all forgot what happened before, he was the only one that still remembered."

"So what?"

"So he's like me!" Lucas thought that should have been obvious by now. "And look how things turned out for him! Is that my future? Being alone so everybody else can enjoy the world that I almost died for?"

"Of course that's not how you'll end up!" Claus seemed almost insulted by the suggestion.

Lucas took a breath before looking his brother dead in the eye. "You said it yourself, Claus. Why am I here? We should be at Angie's baking cookies, but we're not. I'm not."

"And I'm here with you, dummy," Claus reminded him. "I'm not going to let you run away from everyone and live like a crazy hermit if that's what you think!"

"Well maybe you should. You've got your place to be and I've got mine. If mine is lonely then I should get used to it."

"That's stupid," Claus scoffed. "You're not 'destined' to be alone or whatever, Lucas, so cut the crap. Deal with the problem head-on."

Lucas angrily splashed the water. "I don't know how! How am I supposed to deal with this, Claus? I can't hit my memories with a stick!"

Claus hung his head, unsure of what to do with his stubborn brother. "Is life here really so bad?"

"Of course not."

"Then why are you so obsessed with this?" Claus demanded. "You don't live in that world anymore. You're here with us now. Why is that not enough? Why do you have to keep picking at this scab?"

"Because I don't trust this. How can I be sure it won't happen again?"

"If it does, do you really think you can stop it?"

"Of course!"

"Are you certain?" asked Claus, letting the question hang in the air for a few seconds before continuing. "You can't be everywhere at once, Lucas. And even if those pig guys are gone for good you can't stop fires or floods or accidents or old age. You can save the world, but you can't save everyone in it. So what good is worrying about it going to do you? All you'll wind up doing is giving yourself an ulcer and some grey hairs. You'll keep winding up back here again and again, making yourself miserable and not much else."

"So am I supposed to pretend like none of it ever happened?"

"Of course not, but that doesn't mean you have to keep beating yourself up. You can't change what happened." Having said that, Claus realized it wasn't true in this one instance. "Or . . . I guess you can, but you can't forget that it happened in the first place. You can still figure out how to deal with your problems, though. If there's something that gets under your skin then don't do it. Let's start by not talking to Mr. Leder anymore, apparently."

Lucas had already tried avoiding anything that might set him off. Spending time with people seemed to help. As long as he was with friends or family, he wasn't thinking about anything else. When he was all alone, though, or he was lying awake in bed late at night, he'd find his mind drifting back to thoughts of the past. Then there were the times, like with Leder, when he pushed for answers and those answers pushed back. "I still want to know what happened, though."

"Why?" asked Claus.

"I just do. I know it won't make me happy. It won't change anything. But I want to know." He couldn't even explain it to himself, but Lucas was compelled to discover the truth.

Claus thought for a moment, then suddenly and without a word, he stood up and took a running leap into the hot spring, splashing water everywhere.

"Aaakkpth!" Lucas yelled, taking a face full of water in the process. He spit and wiped his face even as his drenched hair covered his eyes. "What was that?!"

"That was a cannonball," said Claus, who was similarly soaked from head to toe, clothes and all.

"I know! But why?!"

"Does it matter?" asked Claus. "You're soaked either way."

"You are such a jerk," Lucas griped as he shook more water off himself.

"Look, it's real simple," said Claus. "Either you could spend so long trying to figure out why I jumped in the spring that we both wind up with pruney skin and itchy underwear, or we could go home and change. I know which I'd rather do."

Lucas frowned. "You're not as clever as you think you are."

Claus could only shrug at that. "Maybe not. The dumb part was that I hurt my finger again."

"What did you do to your finger?" asked Lucas, peering at his brother's hand.

"Nutcracker accident," Claus explained as he held up the afflicted digit for Lucas to see.

Lucas groaned. "You're lucky you didn't hurt yourself way worse doing a cannonball into a shallow spring. Come here, let me see it." He gingerly took hold of his brother's hand and examined it. One flash of green light later and it was good as new.

As Lucas was about to pull away, Claus grabbed hold of his wrist with his newly healed hand. Lucas was shocked, but when he looked up he was caught in Claus's fiery gaze and knew he brother meant for him to listen. "I hate to see you making yourself miserable, Lucas," Claus began. "You can spend your whole life looking for an answer that isn't there, but it won't make you happy or fix your problems. You're not going to get what you want by cutting yourself off from people and living inside that head of yours. There's a whole world out here, and everybody wants you in it." He took a breath, but it was clear that he wasn't finished. "I don't know what happened to you or why. I also don't know much about the nutcracker that I got hurt on, but I don't need to. All I need is your help. Maybe you need mine." With that, Claus let go.

Lucas slowly withdrew his hand, meditating on his brother's words. "I know you're right, Claus. But it's too much for me." There was something in the way he said that which made him sound so defeated. "I learned the hard way not to take things for granted. Everybody told me to just give up and accept things as they were, to move on, to embrace Fassad's Happy Boxes and modern conveniences. They said that I should get over losing you and mom; it made me feel like a failure for missing you. I had to fight against that every single day." Lucas balled his hands into fists. "I haven't figured out how to stop fighting yet."

"Well let me know when you do," said Claus. "The longer this goes on, the more it's starting to feel like I'm the one who lost a brother."


	15. Friends Like These

"Hey Lucas, come outside!" Claus was already dressed in his warm winter coat and scarf. He stayed near the door so as not to track snow all over the house. "We're having a snowball fight and we need your help."

Lucas barely even glanced up. "I don't feel like it," he said.

Claus was about to insist, but this kind of thing had become all too familiar over the last few weeks. He'd hoped that the first snow of the season would lighten his brother's mood, but if anything the weather getting colder only made Lucas do the same. "Fine," he said resignedly.

Marching back outside into the cool, clear morning air, Claus was immediately met by Fuel and Nichol.

"Well?" asked Nichol, jumping to his feet. "Is he coming?"

"No," Claus said bitterly.

"What are we supposed to do then?" Nichol wondered. "Without Lucas the girls outnumber us!"

"We can still take 'em," said Fuel.

Nichol did not look convinced. "We're gonna get creamed. Hey Claus, how about Boney?"

"He'd wind up chasing snowballs instead of throwing them," said Claus. "Besides, it's supposed to be girls against boys. Not boys and dogs."

"We could dress him up in Lucas's coat and scarf," Nichol suggested. "They'd never tell them apart."

"Nana could," Fuel said with a snicker. "The jig would be up as soon as she got a little too close and smelled dog breath."

"Hmm," Nichol pondered. "Okay, Fuel, how about this: we dress you up as Lucas and Boney up as you. That way, when Angie gets close to Boney she won't know the difference."

Fuel scowled. "Shut up, poindexter."

"We're not dressing my dog up as anyone," Claus said as he started walking back into town. "Let's just go. We'll come up with something on the way."

Fuel shrugged but followed along. "Whatever."

"Don't want to keep Angie waiting, right Fuel?" asked Nichol.

Fuel seethed. "Like you'd know. You couldn't get a girl's attention if you were on fire."

"Hey that's an idea," Nichol realized.

"Setting you on fire?" asked Fuel.

"No, moron. Getting their attention," said Nichol. "Fuel, you can totally distract Angie!"

"That's the dumbest plan you've ever come up with," Claus pointed out.

"Well I don't see you coming up with a better idea," said Nichol.

"Literally anything would be better," Fuel griped. "Even doing nothing would be better."

"You guys are no fun, y'know that?" asked Nichol. "And what if they try to pull a trick like that on us, huh? We'd be even more screwed than we already are."

"Don't be stupid," Fuel scoffed. "I'm not going to throw a game over a pretty face."

"You're not the one that worries me," said Nichol. "It's 'lover boy' up there."

"What are you talking about?" Claus demanded to know.

"Richie says you've been crushing on somebody super hard," said Nichol.

Claus grimaced. "That's not true!"

"Uh-huh, sure," Nichol said slyly. "Then why'd you get so red all of a sudden?"

"No way," Fuel said as a smirk crept its way over his face. "So who's the lucky girl, huh?"

"We are NOT having this conversation," said Claus. He began to walk faster, hoping to either outrun his friends' teasing or to meet up with the girls as fast as possible and move on to a new topic.

"It's Nana, isn't it?" asked Nichol.

"No way," said Fuel. "Gotta be Richie."

"It better not be," said Nichol. "Trust me, Claus: you don't want none of that."

Claus scowled. "You guys are the worst. If I wanted to hear a couple old hens gossip I'd hang out with Jill and Brenda."

"I guess it doesn't matter either way," said Nichol. "Everyone knows you're too chicken to ever make a move."

"Big talk coming from you!" Claus snapped.

"Heads up, guys," Fuel cut them both off. The girls had just come into view up ahead, and they looked ready for war.

"So where's Lucas?" Richie asked as the boys approached.

"He's sick," Claus lied.

"I hope he's okay," said Nana. "Is it bad? I hear chicken soup is good for that. Maybe I should bring him some. If only I was a better cook. But then he probably already has some, doesn't he? Is it a cold or a fever? You're supposed to starve a cold and feed a fever. Or is it starve a fever and feed a cold? I always get that mixed up. But if he's sick he might have a hard time keeping food down and I wouldn't want to make him even sicker."

"You guys might as well surrender right now," said Angie.

"Not a chance!" Fuel insisted. "Even with just the three of us we can take you on."

"I can sit out if you want," Alle offered.

"No one's sitting out," said Richie."It's just for fun, anyway, so let's get to it."

"Don't think we'll go easy on you because you're girls," Nichol warned them.

Richie glared at her brother. "For your sake, I hope not."

It should come as no surprise that, in the ensuing melee, Nichol was the first one to get pelted. It got so bad that he finally had to cry uncle so he could go home and change into clothes that weren't stuffed to the brim with snow. Fuel put up a valiant effort, landing some good hits and dodging shots from several attackers at any given time, but his downfall came when he chose to hide behind a tree, only to have all the snow in its branches come tumbling down on him at once. Claus, despite his athleticism, came off as lethargic throughout the brawl. He took a lot of easy hits and delivered very little retaliation. Unlike everyone else, he didn't seem to be enjoying himself, which was especially surprising given that the snowball fight had been his idea in the first place.

When the final snowball had been thrown and the combatants were exhausted and sweating despite the freezing cold, the girls emerged to bask in their victory.

"I almost feel bad," Richie admitted.

"It really wasn't a fair fight, after all," Angie agreed.

"It was as fair as we could make it," said Fuel, who was still dislodging snow from his hoodie.

"I had a great time!" Nana let everyone know. "We should do this whenever it snows. That way Lucas can join us once he's feeling better. Do you think we'll get much snow this year? I know it snows a lot in the mountains, but it's not like we can go all that way for a game."

"I think we should go to the inn to celebrate," Angie suggested. "Fuel, you and Claus should come too. And if Nichol ever comes back I guess he can tag along."

Fuel looked at Claus, who was off in his own little world. He'd noticed Claus's foul mood – and he rightly suspected everyone else had too – but decided not to say anything about it yet. "What do you think, Claus?" he asked.

"Huh?" Claus snapped back to reality. "Oh. I dunno."

"It'll be fun," Alle promised.

Claus considered going home, but he was not in the mood to deal with his brother at the moment, so this seemed like the only option. Then again he also wasn't in much of a mood to socialize either. Thankfully, Fuel seemed to sense his hesitation and stepped in to rescue him. "Hey I think Nichol had the right idea," said Fuel. "I need to change into something dry before I freeze to death. How about we meet you four at the inn in a little while?"

"Don't take too long," Angie warned him.

"We won't!" Fuel assured her. "Claus? Do you want to come?"

Claus nodded, happy to follow Fuel's lead on this. Any excuse to get some quiet time was a good one. Unfortunately as the pair started walking back to Fuel's house it became clear that quiet time was not on Fuel's mind.

"So what's up?" Fuel asked almost as soon as the girls were out of earshot.

"Huh?"

"With the attitude," Fuel clarified.

"I don't have an attitude," Claus said in a tone that he hoped would get Fuel to mind his own business.

"Don't give me that," said Fuel. "Something's up with you and everybody knows it."

"How rude of me," Claus grumbled. "Next time I should stay home so I don't ruin the fun."

"That's not what I meant and you know it," said Fuel. "You're not still mad we were giving you a hard time, are you?"

Actually, that had completely slipped Claus's mind. "What? No. Whatever."

"Is it something to do with Lucas?" Fuel asked. This time Claus did not respond, leading Fuel to follow up. "I mean, it was right after you asked him to come play that this mood of yours started, so . . ."

"Can we not talk about this?" Claus's tone made it clear that this was not a request.

"Fine, whatever you want," said Fuel. "All I'm saying is that everybody's started to notice something's up with him, and I don't want you catching whatever he's got."

Claus sighed, knowing Fuel was worried even if he had a hard time expressing it. "He's going through some stuff right now."

"What sorta stuff?"

"The sorta stuff that won't be helped by being nosey," Claus said with finality.

Fuel shrugged. "If you say so. I just wanted to help."

That struck a chord with Claus, who knew the sentiment all too well. It was bad enough being shut out by Lucas without shutting out Fuel in turn. "Sorry," he apologized. "I was being a jerk."

"No, I get it. Some things you gotta deal with on your own."

"Yeah, but having someone there is never a bad thing," Claus added. "So, y'know . . . thanks for always being there."

Fuel laughed. "Where else would I be?"

"Hey, I mean it," said Claus. "I'm glad I've still got _somebody_ to talk to around here."

"Yeah, I know what you're saying," Fuel agreed. "Lucas is kinda quiet, but this is weird even for him."

"You don't know the half of it," said Claus. "He doesn't want to do anything lately. It's been lonely."

"I wish I could help," said Fuel. "It's out of our hands, though. Whatever happens, happens."

"Maybe, but I'm not about to stop trying," said Claus.

Fuel snickered at that. "You _never_ stop trying."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's not a bad thing," said Fuel. "You don't have to prove yourself all the time though."

"Do you think that's the problem?" asked Claus. "Should I let Lucas have some space?"

Fuel shrugged. "Beats me. I'm no mind reader."

The wind started to pick up as they approached the forest's edge. Claus sighed. Everybody had advice but nobody had answers. In Claus's experience, the only thing that got his brother to open up at all was a push, but he'd been pushing and pushing without getting anything. It was almost as if, by admitting that it felt like he was losing his brother, there was some curse on the words which made them come true. Lucas had always been the one who was more prone to bad moods, but Claus never had so much trouble getting him out of them before. "Hey. I can count on you, right?" he asked.

"Sure thing," said Fuel.

Those two little words helped lift Claus's spirits and brought him a bit of warmth even on a day as cold as this one. "Thanks. That means a lot."

"It's not a big deal," said Fuel. "I know I'm not the most dependable guy, but if you need anything just say the word."

"It is a big deal," Claus insisted. "You're a great friend."

"If you say so."

"Humble, too," Claus added. "Not to mention funny and tough and, um, and . . ." Claus swallowed hard. It was now or never. "And, I was kinda wondering if maybe you might want to, y'know, hang out. Sometime. As, uh . . . more than friends?" Claus could swear his heart stopped beating as he waited for Fuel to answer.

Fuel's pace wavered. ". . . Oh."

Claus never knew one little sound could hurt so much. His heart, already stalled, now felt like someone had stuck it in a vise and was squeezing. It got harder and harder to breathe with every silent second that passed, finally getting so bad that he came to a dead stop in his tracks. Saying anything was completely out of the question.

"Actually, I just remembered," Fuel added, his voice shaking. "I have, um, a thing. To do. Somewhere. Not here. So I should . . . go do that. Yeah. I'm gonna, y'know, go now. To take care of that thing. So, um, I'll see you later. Okay?" He didn't even wait for a response before heading off deeper into the woods at full speed.

Claus wanted to scream. In all his life he'd never felt like a bigger idiot than at that exact moment. His head burned like it was on fire, and he almost wished it was. His vision clouded over in a red haze and he clenched his jaw so tight that his teeth ached.

In a fit of anger, Claus looked for something – anything – to throw. He spied a rock and reached down to pick it up, only to discover that it wasn't a rock at all. It was rounded, metal, and freezing cold to the touch: a doorknob. His focus was broken but only for a moment. With an impotent shout he threw the old doorknob as hard as he could. He never even saw where it landed.


	16. The Boy with the Broken Heart

The door creaked open and a burst of frigid air blew in from outside. Boney was up in a flash, jogging over to greet whoever it was with his tail wagging and tongue hanging out. Shutting the door behind him, Claus walked inside meekly with his eyes cast down and expression grim.

Hinawa looked up from the table as soon as she heard the door open. "Claus, honey?" she asked. "Where have you been?"

He was in no mood for explanations. "Out," he answered without looking at his mother. Boney circled around his legs, hoping for some affection but finding none.

"You missed dinner," Hinawa told him. "Are you hungry? I know it's late, but I can make you something."

"Not hungry," Claus muttered as he stumbled his way forward. "Going to bed."

"Not so fast, partner," Flint, who was also sitting at the table, cautioned him.

Claus twitched at the request, but stopped to listen. He almost wished he'd found a nice cave to sleep in tonight where he wouldn't have to deal with this. "What?"

"Got some good news today," said Flint. "Your grandpa's coming to stay with us for a little while."

Claus grunted. "'Kay."

"He'll be here in a few days," Hinawa elaborated. "You don't mind if he takes your bed while he's visiting, do you?"

"Whatever."

First Lucas and now Claus. Hinawa wasn't about to let her sons be miserable without doing something about it. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" she asked. "Did you have a bad day?"

"Yes," he answered succinctly. "I'm going to bed now."

"What happened?" Hinawa asked before he could start walking again.

Aside from making a total idiot of himself in front of the guy he liked, not a whole lot. He'd spent the remainder of the day taking out his frustrations on ramblin' mushrooms, and now he was fresh out of both PP and patience. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Sit." Hinawa rarely used that tone, but when she did it made everyone listen. Claus reluctantly sat down at the table, still not looking at either of his parents. Boney plopped down at Claus's side, eyes firmly fixed on the boy. Once Claus was comfortably seated, Hinawa continued. "What do you want for supper?" she asked.

"I'm not—" A stern look from his mother cut him off. "I dunno. Something easy," Claus mumbled.

"One omelet coming right up," Hinawa said as she stood up from the table. She was certain it wasn't what Claus had in mind, but judging from the look on his face he needed some of his favorite food.

Claus sat silently while his mother donned her apron and turned on the stove. Flint eyed his son with great interest, but didn't say a word. Claus hated awkward silences. They were seldom an issue for him, but he was already on his second one of the day. "Where's Lucas?" he asked to break the tension.

"Asleep," said Flint.

Claus grunted in response. Lucas never went to bed first unless he was sick; his sour mood was getting worse. With grandpa coming to visit the two of them would wind up having to split one small bed and Claus didn't know if he could put up with that. Maybe he'd be better off spending his nights at the inn until this all blew over.

It was plain as day to Flint that his son was agitated, but he had no idea over what. Claus had been his usual self at breakfast that morning, so whatever it was must have happened that day. His younger son's attitude had them all feeling a little down, but Flint was certain there was more than that at work here.

"If you're gonna yell at me for staying out late then get it over with," Claus said in an attempt to fill the silence.

Flint sipped his drink before answering. "Wasn't planning on it."

Claus squirmed in his chair, nervously tapping his foot and avoiding eye contact at all costs. Had today not been awful enough? Now on top of everything his parents were guilt-tripping him. All he wanted was to go to bed, close his eyes, and forget all about today, but they wouldn't even let him have that. They probably knew exactly what happened and were only pretending not to, letting him stew in his shame before bringing the hammer down. In fact the whole town probably knew by now. Tazmily practically ran on gossip since there was nothing else to do for entertainment.

"Richie dropped by earlier," Flint said after a long pause. "Told her you were out."

Claus barely managed a nod in response. He didn't want to see Richie or anyone else. Lucas seemed to have the right idea staying home all the time; he'd do the same if it didn't mean having to deal with his family.

"Clouds moving in," said Flint. "Looks like more snow tomorrow." Again he was met with hardly any acknowledgment from Claus. Of the twins, Claus was the easier one to read, wearing his heart on his sleeve as he did. It would have been easy enough to force an answer out of him, but years of experience taught Flint that doing so wouldn't help. Claus would open up when he was good and ready.

"Do you want mushrooms?" Hinawa called from the kitchen as she cracked an egg.

"No," Claus answered, deviating from his usual order. He had always been the one who liked mushrooms while Lucas couldn't get enough cheese on his.

"Yes you do," said Hinawa. She knew well enough what would help her son's mood, even if he didn't want to admit it. It used to be that she could make her boys feel better with a kiss on the cheek and a bedtime story. Nowadays their problems weren't so easy to solve, but she'd grown cleverer to keep pace. Even if she couldn't magically make their problems disappear, she had ways of making them seem a lot less terrible.

Boney plopped his head in Claus's lap and looked up at him with expectant eyes. Even now, the boy could not resist those eyes. He lightly stroked Boney's head, much to the dog's delight. The touch of that warm, soft fur soothed Claus's hands, which were still stinging from the cold.

After a few minutes Hinawa placed a plate down in front of her son. It smelled heavenly, and even though he told himself he wasn't hungry his stomach gave an audible gurgle as soon as he set his eyes on it.

"Here you are, sweetheart," said Hinawa, smoothing his hair back with one hand before leaning down to kiss him on the forehead. She then went to sit back down next to Flint, keeping an eye on her son all the while.

Claus timidly took a bite of his omelet while still petting Boney with his other hand. The eggs were light and fluffy while the mushrooms were perfectly tender. He was convinced that he didn't deserve any of this, and only picked at his food while his parents looked on. He could feel their eyes on him as he ate, their concern evident from the quiet. It only made him feel worse. Everything made him feel worse. He couldn't even enjoy his favorite food without it leaving a bad taste in his mouth.

He put down his fork when he'd scarcely eaten a third of his omelet. "Thanks," he said. "That was good."

"Keep eating," Hinawa insisted. "You'll feel better." This was starting to remind her of trying to get Claus to eat his vegetables when he was younger.

Claus refused to budge this time, though, so Flint stepped in to back up his wife. "I'd hate to see good food go to waste," he said. "Come on, now. Your mother worked hard on that."

"You can have the rest," Claus said quietly. "I'm full."

"Full, huh?" asked Flint. "That might be the first time I've ever heard you say that."

Claus sunk down in his chair. This was humiliating. He didn't need to be treated like a child. He didn't need his dad's snarky comments. What he needed was to be left alone.

It hurt Hinawa to see her son like this. All their lives she tended to the twins' every need and listened to all their troubles. Then, one day and without warning, they decided that they didn't want her help anymore. They had to do everything all on their own and left her out of the loop. It took some getting used to. "Do you want to talk?" she asked.

"No," Claus answered.

"That's okay," Hinawa assured him. "You don't have to. We're always here if you want to, though." She knew she couldn't force him to accept help he didn't want, but she could remind him that it was there.

"Can I go now?" Claus asked.

"If Boney will let you," Hinawa replied.

Claus looked down at the dog who kept his head placed adamantly in the boy's lap. Boney wasn't going anywhere if he could help it. That was enough to convince Claus to stick around for a few minutes longer while the warm omelet in front of him continued to call his name. As he stroked Boney's head, he thought about how unfair it was that a dog could love so easily and completely without a trace of shame when people couldn't.

Flint, meanwhile, was bracing himself for the possibility of a sleepless night. He had no intention of going to bed without clearing the air. Still, he didn't know if there was anything he could say to help. He was never much for words anyway, so instead he resorted to action – something small, perhaps, but it was still something. "I'll hang up your coat," he offered as he stood up and walked over to his son.

Claus looked at himself, finally noticing that he was still wearing his coat and scarf. He slipped them off mechanically, doing his best not to disturb Boney in the process, and handed them to his father.

Nothing made sense anymore. When had things gone so wrong? "Why?" Claus whispered to himself as his father went to hang up his coat.

"What's that dear?" Hinawa asked.

Claus did not repeat himself right away. He could kick himself for asking at all. Even so, he could sense his mother's worried tone, and he finally did speak up again, louder this time but in a shaky voice. "Why are you being so nice?"

Hinawa gave her son a pitying looked and reached across the table to place her hand atop his. "Because we care about you, sweetheart. We want to help, if you'll let us."

The warmth of his mother's hand on his was familiar and soothing, like a favorite blanket. He shut his eyes to block out everything around him. "This doesn't have anything to do with you."

"We're not asking for our sakes," Hinawa reminded him.

"You should help Lucas instead," Claus insisted. "He deserves it more."

"We're trying, honey," Hinawa reassured him. "But that doesn't mean we're going to ignore you."

With a sigh, Claus leaned forward and laid his face down on the table. "I wish you would," he grumbled.

"No, you don't," said Hinawa.

Returning from the coat rack, Flint came up behind Claus and rested a rugged hand on the boy's shoulder. Something about his father's presence always made Claus feel safe. Flint was larger than life in his sons' eyes, and as steady and reliable as the ground underfoot.

Claus blinked away a tear. He refused to cry, especially in front of his parents over this of all things. He was stronger than that, he told himself. "Why does everyone hate me?" he croaked.

Hinawa stroked his hand tenderly. "Nobody hates you, Claus."

Claus sniffled. "Fuel does."

"I'm sure he doesn't," said Hinawa. "Did you two have a fight?"

Claus shook his head from side to side, but gave no other answer. What could he possibly say?

"It's okay, Claus. You can tell us," Hinawa encouraged him.

He did not want to tell his parents, but he also felt like he was going to explode if he didn't tell someone. "He hates me," Claus insisted.

"Fuel's your best friend," Hinawa reminded him. "Whatever happened, he doesn't hate you."

"Then why—" Claus choked on his words. "Why doesn't he like me back?"

With that, all the pieces clicked into place and Hinawa finally understood. Pulling her hand back from his, she rose from her chair and walked over to where Claus was sitting. Hinawa kneeled down to embrace him, wrapping her arms around his back and resting his eyes against her shoulder. She slowly rocked him back and forth, almost the same way she had when he was a baby. All the while, Flint's steady hand never left its place, giving Claus a supportive squeeze. After a moment's hesitation, Claus returned the hug, still trying his best not to cry. Hinawa had no easy fix for a broken heart, but she would do her best as always.


	17. Forgive Me

Lucas reached his hand up onto the ground, putting it right into a pile of snow. He cursed himself for not bringing his gloves, but once he'd left home there was no going back. He soldiered through the shock and pulled himself the rest of the way up the ladder and out into the open air once again. The biting wind blowing through the courtyard of Osohe Castle made him shiver; it was times like this that he wished he knew PK Fire. Luckily, the moonlight bouncing off all the fresh-fallen snow made it easy to scope out his path to the main entrance.

This may not have been the best plan Lucas ever concocted, but after a lot of thought he came to believe it was the only chance he had. Somewhere inside that castle was the Hummingbird Egg. He didn't know how it worked, but he knew it was used to store the memories of all the people from the White Ship. If it could do that, then it could store his memories as well. All the terrible things he went through could be safely stored away where no one would ever have to relive them again.

There was no time to dilly-dally. Sneaking out without anyone noticing meant he'd had to wait until it was very late. His grandfather was expected to arrive in the morning and Lucas didn't want to cause any more of a fuss than he had to. With luck he should be able to get in, find the egg, and sneak back home with his family none the wiser. Then he could figure out how to use the egg at his leisure.

Approaching the large double doors at the entrance, Lucas wondered if he should knock first. He didn't want to be rude, after all. He might even avoid some trouble with the castle's denizens if he entered like a guest instead of a vandal. With nothing to lose for the effort, Lucas knocked. Unsurprisingly, there was no response. After a few seconds he tried knocking once more, only this time there came an answer in the form of a haggard grunt, not from within, but from behind.

Spinning on his heel, Lucas held his stick aloft and got ready for a fight. If those zombies had followed him they would soon regret it. Sure enough, someone was climbing out of the tunnel he'd left just a short time before, but on closer inspection he realized it was no zombie.

"Claus?!"

Startled, Claus lost his grip and very nearly slipped back down the ladder. He narrowly caught himself, much to his relief. "Don't do that!"

"What are you doing here?!" Lucas demanded.

"Following you! The better question is what you're doing here."

Exasperated by the intrusion, Lucas gave the only answer he could. "Go home right now!"

"Shut up!" Claus snarled. "I'm not gonna sit on my hands while you delve into a dangerous dungeon all alone in the middle of the night!"

"You are not coming with me this time!" Lucas insisted.

"Try and stop me!" Claus challenged him.

Lucas folded his arms in front of his chest. "I'm serious, Claus."

"So am I!" Claus answered back, finally standing upright and brushing snow off himself. "If you plan on going in there alone, you're gonna have to get through me to do it."

"I don't have time for this," Lucas grumbled.

"Too bad, 'cause I've got all the time in the world." Claus puffed up his chest and paced back and forth in front of his brother.

"You shouldn't be here," said Lucas. "Go back home and I'll explain everything in the morning."

Claus was not buying it. "Tell me what you're doing right now," he demanded.

"Nothing," Lucas told him. "It's not a big deal."

Claus's nostrils flared angrily at his brother's dodging the question. "Nothing?! You don't sneak out in the middle of the night and break into a monster-infested ruin over 'nothing', Lucas!"

"What do you care?" Lucas snapped. "This is my problem, not yours! I don't need you breathing down my neck all the time!"

Claus stomped his foot. "I'm trying to help, dammit! Stop pretending like I'm not here!"

"How could I?" asked Lucas. "You're the center of attention everywhere you go!"

"Me?!" Claus shouted indignantly. "What about you?! You think nobody else matters! You don't care that anybody might be worried about you. You don't want help. You're going to do everything on your own and then complain when you're lonely. I am so sick and tired of this attitude of yours!"

Lucas gritted his teeth. If Claus was going to go all out, then so was he. "Oh, so when it's _my_ problem I should just get over it, but when it's _your_ problem you can be as nasty as you like and everybody has to deal with it! Isn't that right?"

The older twin felt his blood boiling. "What's that supposed to mean?!"

"You know exactly what it means!"

"Am I not allowed to be upset now?!" Claus spat. "Is that so inconvenient for you?! Sorry to step on your toes! Get over yourself!"

"That's right; tell me I should just forget about my problems, Claus! That'll solve everything!" Lucas's words dripped with venom. "You're just like everyone else!"

Claus bristled at the implication. "At least I'm actually trying to get better! All you do is sit around feeling sorry for yourself!"

"It's better than wandering the countryside and shooting lightning at anything that moves like a psychopath!"

"I'm not the one hurting the people he's SUPPOSED to care about!"

That blow cut deeper than Claus could have known; in a spiteful frenzy, Lucas struck back just as hard. "I guess Fuel and I have something in common then!"

Claus's knuckles turned white as he had to restrain himself from socking his brother right in the jaw. "Leave him out of this!"

"Make me!"

"Don't tempt me!"

Lucas dismissed his brother's boasts for what they were: all talk. "Why don't you go back home before you get hurt?"

At the top of his lungs, Claus shouted, "Why don't you go back to whatever stupid world you came from and let me have my real brother back?!" His words echoed off the otherwise silent walls of the castle.

"I would if I could!" Lucas answered. "I like the other you better anyway!"

Being compared to the other Claus irritated the boy and Lucas knew it. "Go right ahead!" Claus hissed. "Go cry to your other brother and tell him how mean I am! Oh wait. You can't because he's DEAD!"

Fury flashed in Lucas's eyes. "Give it a minute and you will be too!"

"I hate you!"

"I hate you more!" With that, Lucas turned and shoved his full weight against the double doors, pushing them open. He marched inside with grim resolve, bolstered by his overwhelming anger, which only grew more intense when he realized his brother had followed him inside. Whatever Claus thought he was going to accomplish, it didn't matter. Lucas was done talking.

Claus was serious about coming along whether Lucas liked it or not. He would have preferred to do this without being noticed for reasons that should be obvious, but now that he didn't have to hide anymore he was going to stick to his brother like glue, assuming, of course, that Lucas would let him. The blonde was already charging off ahead, through the open gate in the wall opposite the entrance. It was as if he knew exactly where he was going. Even keeping up proved to be more of a struggle than Claus expected.

Heading up the stairs to the second floor, Lucas cursed himself for letting that argument get out of hand and going so far over the line. He didn't mean the things he said, but he'd still said them. What hurt the most was the hint of truth, both in his words and in his brother's. It was bad enough thinking those things in private, but when somebody else voiced the very same doubts he had about himself – especially someone so close to him – there was no way to un-ring that bell. No apology would ever be enough.

As he emerged onto the second floor, Claus looked around the long hallway. Lucas was already approaching the door at the far end, so he would have to run to catch up, but he hadn't gone more than a couple paces before he tripped on the carpet and tumbled to the ground. Rolling over, Claus looked back to see the offending spot, only to find it was no mere wrinkle but a carpet monster lunging at him. Fortunately, Claus had come prepared for such an encounter. In a flash he whipped out his trusty pocketknife and slashed at the snarling specter of shag, only to have the blade knocked clear from his hand like it was nothing. He instinctively held up his arms in front of himself as the creature's snapping jaws came down on him.

*Smack!*

Right between the eyes. Lucas tamed the rowdy rug with a single blow from his stick, sending it scurrying away with its tail between its legs. Claus was stunned, hardly able to believe that Lucas could do that with only one hit while his own attack hadn't even grazed the carpet monster. Even more amazingly, Lucas treated it like nothing special. He simply turned and continued on, more annoyed at having to watch his brother's back than he was fazed by the enemy.

Dazed but thankfully unharmed, Claus stood, sparing one last look at the tamed carpet monster before jogging into the next room after Lucas. As he pushed his way through the doors he was assaulted by the sight of the bustling banquet hall, filled to bursting with friendly ghosts sipping wine and eating hors d'oeuvres while ragtime music was played on the piano. One of the spirits offered Claus a tray of rotten éclairs to sample, but he waved the ghost host away. Claus thanked his lucky stars that he hadn't eaten a large dinner. If he had he would have lost more than his appetite.

Hoping to ditch his brother amid the hustle and bustle, Lucas slipped through the door in the back of the room as quickly as he could. He couldn't let his brother get in the way; this was too important. Claus would understand once Lucas did what he needed to do. When he had the egg and could forget all about the previous world, everything would be better. They could be a happy family and everything would finally be back to the way it should be. It would be worth it in the end, or so Lucas told himself.

Then Lucas ran into trouble. Having ascended another flight of stairs and walked down a corridor, he came upon a problem he could not get around: a gaping hole in the floor. There was no other way around this, and without Rope Snake he couldn't get across. He should have planned for this, but it had been so long since his last time here that he forgot about a few details. He looked around, hoping to find something to help him get across before his brother found him.

Rushing through the last door, Claus skidded to a stop. He hadn't expected to catch up to Lucas so easily, and honestly didn't know what to do now that he had. He certainly didn't want to talk, and it was obvious that Lucas didn't either. They looked away from one another, lingering in the hallway. At least he didn't have to worry about losing track of his brother anymore.

Lucas couldn't find any way to cross the gap, although his brother's arrival did give him an idea. It wasn't a good idea. In fact he hated it. He even considered going home and trying this again some other time, but he was so close. If he was going to get to the other side, there was only one way.

"Hey," Lucas said at a volume scarcely above a whisper.

Claus glared at his brother, furious that he thought anything but an apology was going to get a response.

After waiting a few seconds it became clear that Claus wasn't going to answer, so Lucas continued. "Boost me across."

"Why? So you can leave me behind again?" Claus asked hoarsely.

Lucas gestured across the hall. "No, because it's the only way to go."

Feeling spiteful, Claus folded his arms. "I don't care."

Lucas shut his eyes and counted to ten, all the while questioning whether this was really worth the aggravation. "I'm not going to leave you behind," he explained as calmly as he could. "There'd be no point since there are more gaps to cross anyway."

"Then you can boost _me_ ," Claus retorted.

Lucas gave in. "Fine," he said shortly. Without another word he kneeled down in front of the gap, fingers intertwined and ready.

Claus hadn't expected his brother to be okay with this idea. Whatever Lucas was after must have been very important to him. The prospect of making that jump was a daunting one for Claus, even if he did trust his brother to get him all the way over. If he slipped up or hesitated he was in for a nasty fall.

"Any day now," Lucas muttered.

Claus shot his brother a nasty look. It's not as if Lucas was the one putting his neck on the line here. Still, as the older one, Claus had a reputation to live up to. He had to be responsible and keep Lucas out of danger, even if that meant running into it himself. After stretching and measuring out the distance as best he could, Claus cracked his knuckles, bent down into his starting position and breathed out.

Three. Two. One. Claus charged, landed his foot perfectly in his brother's hands, and went sailing right over the hole. His landing was less than graceful, but a few bumps were better than coming up short. As he stood up to dust himself off, he looked back and realized just how far he'd flown. For the second time he was shocked at how strong his brother was. He knew for a fact that his own legs couldn't have carried him nearly so far. For someone who had always believed himself to be a step ahead of his little brother it was a humbling experience to discover for the first time that he was lagging behind.

"Now catch me," Lucas called over to him as he got ready to make the jump himself.

"Whoa, hang on," Claus insisted. "There's no way you'll make it."

"I will if you help," Lucas answered.

Claus gritted his teeth. This seemed like an awful idea, but he still had faith in his brother. Now would be a very bad time to learn that his faith was misplaced. He stood near the edge of the hole, ready to do whatever he could to help.

Lucas had no idea if he could do this, but it was hardly the only plan of his that he was making up as he went along. How hard could it be? He'd faced far deadlier threats and survived. After all he'd been through it would be stupid to die while trying to jump over a hole in the floor. Thinking about his travels made Lucas wish that Boney, Duster and Kumatora were there instead of Claus. That realization burdened him with unexpected guilt.

"Ready?" Lucas called out as he shook off his anxiety.

"Just go already!" Claus answered nervously.

Breathe in, then out, and go. A short run to a long jump. Lucas sprung off one side of the chasm and winced as he felt his foot crash down on the other. There was a moment of relief that was immediately ripped away when the stonework failed and he felt himself slipping backwards. Then he stopped, and his eyes shot open to see Claus reaching out and grabbing him by the shirt.

"I got you!" Claus shouted as he pulled back with all his strength. He fell over backwards, dragging Lucas with him. The pair collapsed in a heap on the ground, both panting for air.

"See?" Lucas asked after a few seconds, putting on a weak smile. "I told you there was nothing to it."

"Never make me do that again!" Claus answered between panicked wheezes.

Lucas coughed. "Deal. Next time, you can boost me."

Claus paled when he realized his brother was serious. "Forget it. You can do the rest of this place on your own. I don't even care anymore."

"Too late," Lucas said as he crawled to his feet. "We're both stuck in here now."

"Great," Claus griped. "So I guess if you still want to kill me, this would be the place to do it."

Lucas offered Claus his hand. "Come on," he said. "We've got a long way to go."

Claus looked at his brother's hand, but finally decided not to take it and stood up all on his own. "Whatever." He was still mad, and being outshined hadn't helped. His relief at making it across the gap could only do so much.

Lucas knew he deserved that. He'd been the one who started their fight, after all. He was the one who couldn't leave well enough alone, who kept on picking at the wound until everything got out of hand. But he was going to fix it now. He had to keep that in mind. Soon everything would be right again. He wouldn't have to think about the worst years of his life ever again. There would be plenty of time to patch things up with Claus after that.

Up one more flight of stairs the pair entered a long hallway lined with paintings. Claus was about to step inside when Lucas caught him by the arm. "Hold on," he warned. "This part's a little dangerous."

Lucas almost immediately regretted saying that. He could see the gleam Claus got in his eyes whenever he was feeling competitive. "Dangerous, huh?" he asked. "Good."

Breaking away from his brother's grip, Claus charged forward only to be immediately leapt upon by an artsy ghost disguised as a painting. Lucas raised his stick and was about to charge in when Claus let loose with PK Love Ω right into the ghost, smashing it back against the wall, obliterating the painting and sending screams of panic up from all the other ghosts hiding in the room.

"Run for your un-lives!" shouted one.

"It's just like that girl all over again!" added another.

"I'm too dead to die!" cried a third.

Claus's stern look softened into a self-satisfied smirk as he breathed out. He was finished feeling useless. So what if Fuel hated him? So what if nothing he did made his brother feel better? He could still fight and no one was going to take that away from him.

"Nice shot," said Lucas.

"Yeah. It was," Claus responded. Even though he was still mad he couldn't help smiling at the compliment. "Erm, thanks."

"You're welcome." Lucas felt like he should apologize, but he didn't think the time was right. They still had a long way to go and the clock was ticking. "Come on," he said. "We should hurry."

Despite his concern, there was no urgency in Lucas's steps. For the first time since entering the castle the twins walked side by side, neither one trying to outpace the other. They headed through the next hall at a careful pace, Lucas pointing the way to the correct door at the end of the hallway. Claus could sense the trepidation in his brother's steps as they headed into the next room, but upon finding it empty aside from some old, beat-up furniture and a disused fireplace the tension quickly faded.

"Were you expecting something?"Claus wondered.

"Let's just say I wasn't looking forward to an encore," Lucas answered cryptically before continuing on through to the next room with Claus hot on his heels.

The next room was very different from the others, lacking any sort of furnishing. The far wall was adorned with a large stone face bookended by some bizarre carvings. Claus immediately ran up to the only other thing of note in the room: what appeared to be a vase or urn sitting in the center of the floor.

"Is this what we're after?" he asked, picking the pottery up to examine it.

"No, that's not right," Lucas said dismissively as he proceeded to the stone face. "There should be a door here."

"A door?" Claus asked. "I hate to break it to you, but that's a wall."

"No, it's not," said Lucas. "There's got to be some secret way through here. Help me look."

"Could this help us?" Claus asked, again offering the item he'd picked up.

"Drop the spittoon, Claus."

Claus did exactly that as soon as he realized what his find was. The spittoon cracked and rolled away from him as he wiped his hands in disgust. "You coulda warned me . . ."

Lucas ignored him. "These carvings have to mean something," he noted.

Looking closer, Claus knew right away what they were. "Those are dance moves," he realized.

Lucas turned to his brother in disbelief. "Dance moves?"

"Yeah," Claus affirmed. "I even learned some of these from Salsa and Samba."

"Do you think that'll open the door?" asked Lucas. "Dancing?"

Claus shrugged as he continued to study the pictograms. "Well there's one way to find out. Let's see, you shimmy, then shake and there's a little side-to-side here . . ."

"Shimmy?" Lucas asked.

"Don't give me that look!" said Claus. "This shouldn't be too hard."

"So let's see it then."

"Don't rush me. I don't wanna mess this up." None of the moves were unfamiliar, but remembering the order would be tricky. Without music he couldn't be sure of the timing, either, though that had never stopped him before. He still had a regular appointment with the monkeys and was way better than the last time Lucas saw him in action. "Hey, uh, turn around."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want you watching me, okay?" If these carvings were to be believed then he was going to stick his butt out an awful lot.

Lucas gave in. "Whatever you say, as long as you get this door open."

Once Lucas had turned around, Claus took his position, spread his feet and sucked in a deep breath. With his butt out and his back arched, he shook his hands left, then right repeatedly. He then moved on to waving his arms up and down while still shaking his backside back and forth before proceedings to sidesteps with more intermittent shaking his hands in unison. From there he had to turn all the way around while doing kicks, then followed up with a spin on his heels and ending in a sudden stop with his right hand on his hip and his left up above his head.

Once he froze he heard clapping from behind him. So much for Lucas's promise not to watch. A few seconds later it all proved worthwhile though as the mouth of the stone face popped open to reveal a hidden passage.

"After you," Claus offered, too embarrassed to show his face quite yet.

"Boy, do I feel sorry for Fuel," said Lucas. "If only he could see you now."

"Shut up."

"I mean it," Lucas said sincerely. "He really missed out."

"It doesn't matter," Claus grumbled as he headed through the door into the next room.

Lucas followed behind, but as he passed through the door he heard something – or more precisely he felt it. There was a noise, much too low to actually hear, but it made all the hairs on Lucas's neck stand on end. He couldn't place it, but there was something familiar about it, and it was repeating.

Claus had gone over to look out into the castle's inner courtyard, which was covered in pristine snow just like everything else. There was no trace of the Needle that had once been there. The cold quiet caught Lucas's breath in his throat with its serenity, and made him reflect on what he'd done. There was something he needed to say before it was too late. Now was the time.

"Hey, Claus?" Lucas asked as he approached his brother. "I, um . . . I wanted to say I'm sorry. I was way out of line back there. You didn't deserve any of that. I know I can't take it back, but I need to tell you that I didn't mean what I said."

Claus didn't answer right away. Instead he kept staring out into the courtyard, a glum expression on his face.

Lucas's heart sunk, but he resolved to press on. "I'm sorry I expected so much from you. It wasn't fair, asking you to carry my burden. And I should have listened to you all those times you tried to help. You were saying the things I needed to hear, but I shut you out anyway. You're so much better at helping people than I ever was. You know that? If only I'd listened." Claus was clearly paying attention to what Lucas had to say, but wasn't showing any signs of responding. "And I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you. I'm sorry about Fuel. You deserve so much more than you get. You deserve to be happy, so when you're not it seems so . . . wrong." Lucas hung his head, his voice growing quiet as he meditated on everything that had happened. "Most of all, I'm sorry I hurt you. I want you to be yourself, the one who's so happy and full of life, who's always smiling, but I got in the way of that. I've made things worse ever since I came here. I want to start over, but I have to fix things first. And to do that, I need to start by telling you how sorry I am, and that things are going to change. I'm going to do everything I can to be the brother you deserve. So what I'm saying is . . . can you forgive your selfish brother?"

Claus finally looked him in the eye and smiled. "Do you really need to ask?" Before Lucas could respond Claus grabbed hold of him and dragged him into a hug. "How many times do I need to say it, Lucas? I will ALWAYS have your back. Even if you go off and live like a hermit, I'll still come to visit. Even if you hate me and wish I was dead, I still won't leave you alone. And even if you won't forgive me for how crappy I've been and all the awful things I said, I'll always forgive you."

"Then I'll have your back too," Lucas promised. "I mean it. No matter what happens, I'll never let you down."

As soon as he'd said it, Lucas knew it was a promise he could not keep. The Hummingbird Egg was waiting for him up ahead.


	18. The Other Shoe

With a loud groan, the final set of double doors slowly parted, pulling apart years of dense cobwebs and shaking off a thick layer of dust. The reliquary beyond was shrouded in darkness, save for the soft, pulsating glow of the single treasure therein. Lucas smiled to himself. He was afraid it wouldn't be here, but there it sat as plain as day: a glowing, winged egg sitting atop a pedestal on a dais in the center of the room. The Hummingbird Egg.

"That's it?" asked Claus. "An egg?"

"Try to keep an open mind," Lucas cautioned his brother. "That's no ordinary egg."

Claus rolled his eyes. "Great. I'm sure it'll make the best omelet."

Lucas was about to head inside when he heard a sound echo up from the hallway the pair had passed through a few moments ago. "Did you hear that?" he asked.

Claus turned to listen. "Hear what?"

There it was again. Lucas had noticed it earlier, but it was closer now. Footsteps on stone. Voices. Someone else was here, and they were coming closer. "We're being followed."

Claus reacted right away. "So then let's get this egg of yours and go!" He jogged up onto the dais and snatched the Hummingbird Egg from its stand in one swift motion. "See?" he asked. "Nothing to it."

Lucas grimaced. "Claus, don't be so hasty!"

The older twin tossed the egg between his hands. "It's fine. See? Besides, you're the one who's in a hur—" It was at that moment that the floor in front of the pedestal where Claus stood dropped out from under his feet and he began to plummet. "–REEEE!"

"Claus!" Lucas ran up to the hole in the floor, pausing at the edge as he peered down into the pitch-black pit. There was a distant splash far below, then silence. With no time to think, Lucas shut his eyes tight, held his nose, and jumped.

He didn't make it more than a few feet before he was jerked to a sudden halt and found himself dangling upside-down in the pit with something snagged on his pants. He twisted his head around and saw a pair of beady eyes looking back at him from the face of a crimson snake.

"Lucas . . . It's me, Rope Snake," the snake said to him, its voice muffled by a mouthful of Lucas's denim. "I bet you didn't expect to see me in this story, did you? I was pretty surprised too, to be honest. But here I am, finally getting my time to shine! That's great news for me, and for you too since you're not going to fall to your death. But it's also bad news for you because I don't think I can reach your brother from here. How disappointing. I finally get a chance to show what I'm made of, and I can't even do something as simple as that. I guess you could say I've . . . literally . . . bit off more than I could chew."

"Not now, Rope Snake!" said Duster who was holding on to the other end and straining to carry Lucas's weight.

Kumatora then appeared and leaned over the edge with an outstretched hand. "Grab on!" she ordered.

"But my—"

"Now!" she barked.

Not wanting to risk Kumatora's wrath, Lucas did as he was told and reached up to her. Once her grasp closed around the boy's hand, Kumatora yanked him back up on to solid ground.

"Good to see you, Lucas," Duster greeted the boy as soon as everyone was safe and sound.

"You too," Lucas answered as he tried to stand up again on wobbly legs. "And you, Kumatora." He gave her a familiar smile, which she took as friendly enough, if a little confusing.

"How did you know – ah, forget it," Kumatora growled. "You got a lot of explainin' to do, kid."

"I'll tell you everything, but we've gotta help my brother first," Lucas insisted. "He fell down there and he might be hurt!"

"A fall like that might get you hurt too," Duster pointed out. "There must be some other way down."

"It sounded like there was water at the bottom," Lucas recalled.

"Water, huh?" Kumatora asked. "I bet it drains into the moat. We'll probably find your brother down there if we hurry . . . assuming the giant snake didn't get to him."

Lucas's face fell. "Giant snake . . .?" If Claus wasn't hurt from the fall, he would be from a beast like that. And if he _was_ hurt from the fall, then there wasn't a second to lose. Lucas had to get down there. Before either of the others could react, he ran for the opening and leapt down the trap door.

"Dammit, not again!" Kumatora yelled as she scrambled after him. "Duster! Meet us outside!" With that she too dove into the perilous pit.

Duster, ever the sensible one, opted to take the stairs down. Hopefully somebody would fill him in on what was going on before the night was out.

As the water rushed up to meet him, Lucas clenched everything. He broke the surface with a tremendous splash, and for a moment everything was dark and silent, until he kicked his way back into the dank, heavy air of the lowest depths of Osohe castle. He looked around frantically but did not spy Claus anywhere; all he could see were the worn stone walls, the water, and piles of bones cresting over the deep pool of murky water.

"Look out below!"

Lucas dove to the side as Kumatora came plummeting down after him, again making a splash that left everything in chaos for a few seconds. As Lucas stuck his head out of the water once more he still could not find his brother and was seized by panic. If Claus was hurt and under the water they might never find him in all that terrible darkness. He looked around in a frenzy, praying for any clue to his brother's whereabouts as Kumatora emerged from below and the water began to settle down. Between the splashing, breathing and dripping, one noise echoing off the ancient stone walls caught Lucas's ear. He stopped his thrashing and listened, following it to its source on the far side of one of the piles of bones. There was Claus, clinging to the loose bones for dear life as he clutched the Hummingbird Egg to his chest.

"Claus!" Lucas cried out as he swam over to his brother. "Are you okay?"

Lucas knew from a glance that something was very wrong. Claus was a strong swimmer and he didn't look injured, but he was crying and shaking as he desperately held on to the only relatively stable surface he could reach. The red-head seemingly oblivious to the world around him as he meekly sobbed.

"It's okay, Claus," Lucas said in an effort to comfort his brother, or perhaps himself. "What's wrong? Are you hurt? Can you hear me?" He reached out a hand, but Claus shrunk away from it and Lucas pulled back.

"We should get outta here," Kumatora warned them.

Lucas ignored her. "I'm gonna try to heal you, okay Claus?" Keeping his distance, Lucas tried using Lifeup, Healing, Refresh – anything and everything he could think of, but none of it seemed to make a difference.

"I'm serious, boys," Kumatora reiterated. "We gotta go." She could tell something was up with Claus, but couldn't see clearly from where she was treading water. "What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know!" Lucas answered in a terrified voice. "Nothing's working! Maybe, um . . . maybe I forgot something or . . . or he might have something in his eye! Do you have any eye drops?" Lucas was grasping at straws and he knew it. He'd had plenty of experience dealing with friends afflicted with uncontrollable crying and it didn't look like this. He had to do something, though.

"We'll figure it out later," Kumatora said impatiently as she felt something slither through the water. "Grab him and let's get out of here."

"We can't go anywhere with him like this," Lucas insisted.

"Well we can't stay here!" Kumatora said as a shadow passed beneath them.

Lucas hesitated, even though he knew she was right. If they stayed they were going to be in trouble, but if they tried to go he'd have to drag Claus along and they both might drown – and that was assuming Claus didn't try to fight him off. "I need a minute," he said.

"We don't have a minute!" Kumatora shouted.

Lucas tensed up as he felt something graze his foot. "Help me grab him."

Kumatora started heading in the twins' direction when at last the creature beneath them revealed itself, sticking its massive, pink head up out of the water and cutting Kumatora off from the boys. Sporting an unsettling smile and sultry, half-lidded eyes, the Oh-So Snake leered at Kumatora with its tongue flicking up and down.

"Kumatora!" Lucas called out as he prepared to use his PSI. "You can do this!" With a flick of his wrist, he surrounded the three of them with the brilliant blue aura of a Shield.

It looked to Kumatora like she was going to be on her own for this fight. Lucas might be able to keep her standing, but his attention was elsewhere and Claus was a lost cause. It was a real shame, too: Lucas was clearly already an accomplished psychic if he knew the moves he'd already demonstrated, and she could sense Claus's strength even now. But Kumatora was no pushover, and she aimed to prove it right from her first attack. "PK Starstorm!" she roared.

Duster, meanwhile, was cursing each and every stair on the way down. All this running was murder on his leg. Thankfully, he finally made it to the ground floor and could sprint the last few yards out into the courtyard, where his bandmates were waiting for him.

"What happened to you?" Baccio asked in surprise as Duster charged out to meet them.

"And where's the girl?" added Magic.

"Waiting for us," Duster explained as he struggled to catch his breath. "We gotta move."

"You heard the man," said OJ. "Saddle up!" With that he let out a whistle. A moment later, a sharp whinny echoed off the castle walls.

Lucas was close to hyperventilating as he tried to get any sort of response at all out of Claus. The battle raging mere feet away did not help matters, as both Kumatora and the serpent were thrashing wildly and sending torrents of water in every direction. Lucas did his best to keep Kumatora in fighting shape when he could, but he'd already used so much PP that he was running on fumes. To make matters worse, nothing he'd done for Claus seemed to help at all.

Claus, meanwhile, had gone from quiet sobbing to full-blown ugly crying. He wailed inconsolably as he struggled to even breathe. He tried to speak, but it only came out as gibberish that left Lucas more confused than before.

"Breathe, Claus!" Lucas encouraged him. "Come on, breathe!"

As if through a fog, Claus heard his brother and tried to comply, shuddering as he sucked in air and wheezing as he blew it out again. His eyes were red and puffy from the tears, and his nose was running, but he either didn't notice or more likely didn't care.

"Easy, now . . ." Lucas did his best to calm his twin down, but did a poor job of hiding the fear in his own voice. "It's okay. Everything'll be fine. Just breathe." There was another crash as the snake whipped its massive tail toward Kumatora and slammed into the wall.

Claus tried to speak, but all that came out was a cough. Everything was spinning. After a few more breaths, he tried again. "Th-the r-river!" he wheezed. "Mom? Oh God, where's mom?!" From there he went back to incomprehensible babbling and sobbing.

Lucas grabbed Claus by the hand, trying to get him to focus. He'd never seen his brother in this state before. He was clueless about what to do, powerless to do anything but hold on and hope for the best.

Kumatora smashed the sinister Oh-So-Snake with a punch to the jaw, sending the beast reeling back and giving her a chance to focus on her next PSI attack. She reckoned that PK Thunder would be pretty effective, but it ran the risk of frying everyone else in the tiny room too. PK Ground probably wouldn't do much to a swimming foe, and PK Fire might not work too well on a wet one. Short on options, Kumatora hit the snake right on the snout with a freezing blast that nearly knocked it senseless and left its face covered in icicles.

As fearsome as it was, the Oh-So-Snake knew when its back was up against the wall. Nearly blinded from the ice in its eyes, the serpent dove back into the water, sending out a crushing wave that caught up all the humans at once and sent them flying. The blow proved too much for the old, crumbling masonry of the cistern, however, and one side of the room gave out to reveal an opening to the world outside. All at once, the water in the room drained into out through the new hole in the wall and everything else went with it.

Lucas grabbed wildly for his brother as the rushing water dragged them both through the exit. There was a moment of quiet as the pair popped out into the frigid early morning air, but when Lucas hit the icy water outside he got the wind knocked out of him. Even through his panic, though, he kept swimming. Frozen and nearly blind, Lucas thrashed until he touched an arm. He grabbed on tight and kicked his way upward even as the current carried him along.

Breaching the surface, Lucas sucked in what air he could before more water crashed down over him. With all his remaining strength he tried to get Claus's head above water, but there was always more water rushing to cover them both, dragging them down into the darkness below. The world went black as a memory of the last time he and his brother were washed down a river flashed through Lucas's mind, and in that moment, he knew he was going to die. He saw his mother bathed in soft white light, arms reaching out to welcome him. As her arms closed around him he felt a deep sense of peace.

Lucas was yanked back to reality as the arms grabbing him dragged him back to the surface. He coughed violently before looking up to see that it wasn't his mother holding him, but Kumatora. With her jaw set and fierce resolve in her eyes, she refused to go down without a fight. Looking the other way, Lucas saw that he was still holding onto his brother. Even as his consciousness was fading, his grip refused to loosen.

A shrill whinny rose above the din of the rushing water as DCMC appeared on the riverbank astride a mighty coffee table. The beast/furniture reared up on its hind legs and charged toward the trio at full speed.

"Rope Snake!" Duster called out. "You're up!" With a flourish the thief whipped his trusty companion toward the nearly drowned princess, who reached back. Hand met jaw as Kumatora and Rope Snake grabbed hold of one another, and with one powerful buck Kumatora, Lucas and Claus were hurled up onto dry land.

The coffee table skidded to a stop and the band dropped down from its back, the members splitting up to see to each of the rescued bunch. Gasping for air, Lucas was splayed out on his back. OJ was kneeling over him, asking him questions, but he wasn't paying the saxophonist any mind. His only concern was for Claus, who was lying on his side a couple yards away, tended to by Shimmy Zmizz and Magic.

Lucas stared, silently pleading for some signs of life from his brother. Dread caught in his throat as he waited. One. Two. Three. Nothing. No movement. No sound. Only silence. And then, a miracle. Claus coughed. His whole body shook as he coughed the water from his lungs and took a breath. That was all Lucas needed to hear before he shut his eyes.

Claus was alive. That was all that mattered. Everything would be okay.


	19. Once Frostbitten, Twice Shy

In the twilight just before dawn, all was quiet in Tazmily Village, save for the rapid clip-clopping of four table legs. Soon enough, however, a loud bang disturbed the otherwise tranquil morning as Duster kicked the door to Tazmily's tiny clinic wide open.

"Doc!" he shouted at the top of his lungs as he helped Kumatora stagger inside. The princess was half frozen and shaking uncontrollably as hypothermia took hold, but at least she could still stand under her own power. "Emergency!"

Duster was closely followed by OJ, who carried Lucas in his arms. The boy stubbornly held on to consciousness, but was in no condition to walk. His normally pale skin was bright red from the cold, and he, like the others, was still soaking wet and shivering. Baccio came in last, shutting the door behind him as he brought in the unconscious Claus.

There was a commotion upstairs as the musicians guided their freezing companions into the examination room. Dr. Andonuts appeared at the top of the stairs after a few seconds, still in his white dressing gown and nightcap. "What's going on down there?" he grumbled groggily.

"They fell in the river!" Duster said as if trying to drown out the thunderous beating of his own heart. "What do we do?"

Dr. Andonuts rubbed his eyes and cleared his throat as his joints popped into place one after another. Such was the burden of the small-town doctor that anyone's emergency should become his emergency. "Alright, get them undressed before they freeze to death," he said with a yawn before turning to OJ. "You there, blondie. Get upstairs and grab some blankets out of the closet. As many as you can find. Shades, you get a fire going." He nodded toward the corner where a small cast iron stove sat.

OJ and Baccio both set about doing as they were told without a word. Duster brought Kumatora to one of the stools to sit her down on and moved to aid her with her clothes, only to be slapped away. "I c-can do it," she hissed through chattering teeth. "H-h-help th-those two."

Lucas and Claus were both lying on the bed where Baccio and OJ left them. Dr. Andonuts bent over Claus to check the boy's pulse and breathing while Duster helped Lucas get his sopping wet clothes off. There was a place and time for modesty, and that was certainly not here and now.

OJ returned promptly with his arms full of blankets. Kumatora took one gladly and covered up with it, shivering uncontrollably as she watched Baccio load kindling into the stove. It would be a snap for her to get a fire going if she could focus her mind, but for the moment even a single spark would be asking too much.

Lucas huddled in his blanket as well, conscious but oblivious to the doctor's prodding. Even though he felt himself fading, the boy refused to take his eyes off his brother, whom Duster was drying off at the moment. Claus was breathing, at least. The immediate danger had passed. Still, seeing his brother lying there, barely alive, and knowing that this never would have happened if he hadn't let Claus come with him, Lucas nearly broke down in tears. He'd almost been responsible for his brother's death a second time.

"I got it!" Baccio announced as he shut the tiny door to the stove once a small flame began to burn within.

"Good," Dr. Andonuts said curtly. "Put some water on to boil. Would you all prefer tea or hot cocoa?"

Kumatora looked at the strange old man with disbelief. "Wh-what?"

"It's a simple question, dear. Tea or cocoa?" Dr. Andonuts repeated as he slid over to start examining her.

"I dunno . . . ?" she answered shakily. "T-t-tea?"

"Good choice," said Dr. Andonuts, his feigned calmness ruined by the rapidity of his voice. "I've got a nice chamomile you'll love. What about you, Lucas?" Lucas didn't respond. "Lucas!"

Snapping to attention, Lucas looked up. "Huh?"

"Stay with me," Dr. Andonuts said loudly. "Tea or cocoa?"

Lucas shook his head to clear away the haze hanging over him, but it didn't do any good. "U-u-umm. Uh." It was hard to think, and he was so very tired. He'd feel better if he could only close his eyes for a few minutes. Everything would be fine after a nap.

"Hey!" Duster said as he shook Lucas roughly. "Eyes open."

Lucas tightened his grip on his blanket and did his best to stay awake. "Um. C-cocoa?"

"There's a good boy," Dr. Andonuts encouraged him. "I'd ask that brother of yours, but I think he'll have a hard time deciding right now. He's got quite the sweet tooth, though, so let's get him some hot cocoa too. Blondie!"

OJ stood at attention, ready to do whatever was needed of him. "You got my ear."

"Go upstairs again and look in the cupboard above my sink," Dr. Andonuts explained as clearly as he could while checking Kumatora's pulse. "There should be some tea bags and cocoa mix. Make it snappy and I'll have a lollipop for you on your way out."

"On it, Doc," OJ answered quickly.

"What should I do?" Duster asked as he loomed nervously.

Dr. Andonuts eyed the thief up and down before answering. "Go grab some dry clothes for yourself and those friends of yours. You're dripping all over my floor and I've got enough trouble with three patients; I don't need to make it six."

Duster hadn't even realized that he got so much water on him, but it would explain the creeping cold that was slowly seeping into his skin. As the doctor suggested, Duster headed upstairs to join his bandmates in the cozy studio space where Dr. Andonuts lived. The two musicians stood at the sink, Baccio filling a kettle while OJ scoured the cupboards. The closet door was wide open; its contents undoubtedly spilled out when OJ went to retrieve the blankets, but there weren't any clothes inside. Duster then tried the dresser, which housed Dr. Andonuts's wardrobe. Duster could tell right away that these clothes would be a little loose on him, but it wasn't as if he had much choice.

After picking out some sensible new attire for himself and his compatriots, Duster set about changing. In truth, he was glad for this brief reprieve from the action – a chance to breathe and clam down before his heart exploded out of his chest. He wasn't used to so much excitement all at once, but ever since he'd met up with Kumatora his life had become a lot more exhilarating. Chaos followed that girl like a lost puppy.

For some reason, the thief had a hard time picturing Dr. Andonuts in this floral print shirt. It looked even more ridiculous on Duster, though, less resembling clothing than it did a tent, but at least it was warm and dry. Hopefully the same could be said for Magic and Shimmy Zmizz, who'd stayed behind to make room on the coffee table for the others. Six passengers on one table had still taxed the poor furniture to its breaking point. Duster would have to remember to varnish it later to show his appreciation.

Duster's thoughts were interrupted by a loud crash from downstairs. In a flash the three members of DCMC ran down the steps again, but OJ stopped short and held the others back as electricity arced through the open air right in front of them.

A ragged scream came from down below: "Butcher!"

Claus was back on his feet and panting heavily, his blanket loosely draped over him as electricity cascaded all around his body. His eyes had a wild look to them, bloodshot with dark circles underneath, and they were glaring daggers at Dr. Andonuts.

"What happened?" OJ asked as he continued down to the first floor with Duster and Baccio on his heels.

"I don't know!" the flummoxed doctor admitted. "He woke up, took one look at me and went berserk!"

Claus stumbled forward, barely keeping his footing as he swayed side-to-side. "Sh-shut up!" he barked. "You took it! You took my God damn HEART! I'll kill you!"

OJ stepped in front of Dr. Andonuts and held up his hands. "Take it easy, kid," he said as soothingly as he could. "No one's gonna hurt you. We're all cool here."

"He's delirious," Dr. Andonuts warned the others. "Give him some space until he calms down. I don't want anyone getting injured."

"Claus," Lucas muttered, his voice drained of all energy. "Claus it's okay. You're s-s-safe."

Claus's breathing began to slow down, but he kept his gaze firmly fixed on Dr. Andonuts. The exertion was already taking its toll on his weakened body as his eyelids drooped and his footing grew ever more wobbly.

"You're safe now," Lucas reiterated, standing up and approaching his brother from behind before placing a hand on his back. "I'm here, Claus."

Claus shook his head, seeming to flit between delirium and lucidity. His uncontrolled PSI attacks fizzled out as he fell back against the bed. Lucas was there to catch him, and for a moment the twins looked into one another's eyes.

"Don't let him touch me," Claus begged in a small, pleading voice. "Don't let him. Don't. Don't. Don't." Each time he spoke his voice grew weaker.

As Claus's eyes closed, OJ ran forward to catch the boy and lift him back up onto the bed. Claus was out like a light once again, but Lucas was more alert than he'd been since the fight with the Oh-So Snake. The others might think Claus was merely delirious, but he knew better. "D-d-doc?" Lucas asked as his teeth chattered. "Give him s-s-some space."

"I think that would be wise," Dr. Andonuts agreed.

"Are you sure it's safe?" OJ asked as he covered Claus's shivering form with another blanket.

"As long as he's breathing, I don't need to get too close," Dr. Andonuts pointed out. "And if he stops breathing, then he won't be able to complain."

"Th-thanks," Lucas said as he hopped back onto the bed and cinched his blanket tighter around himself.

"The kid's got spunk, I'll give him that much," Kumatora said as she rubbed her arms in her ongoing effort to warm up.

"How are you feeling, Lucas?" Dr. Andonuts asked. "Is your head any clearer?"

In truth, Lucas felt even more exhausted than before, and he only sat down because he was sure to fall over from dizziness if he didn't. "B-b-been better," he admitted.

"Stay with us," Baccio told him. "In a few minutes we'll have some piping hot cocoa and you don't want to miss out."

Lucas smiled weakly. That sounded like exactly what he needed at the moment. With any luck his brother could enjoy it too, but that was a long shot. Something had changed in Claus; or rather something had changed back.

"Some night, huh?" asked Kumatora.

Duster nodded solemnly as he sat down on the stool next to her. "You said it."

"What were you two even doing there?" Kumatora asked Lucas.

"Th-the Hummingbird Egg," Lucas admitted.

"You mean the Egg of Light?" Kumatora asked. "Yeah, us too."

That wasn't too surprising. For some reason it always seemed to come back to that stupid egg. "Wh-why?" Lucas asked.

"I heard it was supposed to have some kinda special knowledge or memories," Kumatora explained. "I don't really get it, but the Mr. Saturns thought it might help me remember my past." She could tell from the confused expression on Lucas's face that she'd need to say more. "I can't remember where I came from," she went on. "Or I do, but I'm . . . I guess 'missing' parts. I don't know who my parents are, or if I even have them. Don't worry about it, kid. It's not your concern."

Lucas remained quiet for a few seconds before meekly speaking. "Magypsies," he muttered.

Kumatora raised an eyebrow at the blonde boy. "Huh?"

"Y-you were raised b-b-by Magypsies," Lucas elaborated. "Or one of th-them. Ionia."

Kumatora's interest was piqued. Even though these strange names weren't ringing any bells, she was intrigued at this kid's response. "How do you know that?"

Lucas tried to laugh, but it turned into a cough. After clearing his throat he settled on smiling at the princess. "Long story," he told her.

"I can't wait to hear it," said Kumatora. "Y'know, once you're feeling better." It was obvious she wouldn't get much out of him for the time being. Besides, she was starting to take a shine to the kid and didn't want to strain him.

Duster scratched at his stubble thoughtfully. "You're full of surprises, Lucas."

Lucas smiled. He missed spending time with Duster and Kumatora, and he didn't even realize it until they reentered his life. It was a shame that it had to happen under these circumstances.

Looking down at his brother again, Lucas felt a twinge of guilt. Claus was curled up in the fetal position, shivering beneath several blankets. Whether or not he was even conscious, Lucas could not tell.

This was his fault. He should have forced Claus to stay behind, the way Claus had done for him back when the redhead ran off to avenge their mother.

"Uh-oh." A realization dawned on Lucas that filled him with dread.

"What is it?' Duster asked.

It was nearly sunrise. Lucas's mom and dad would wake up soon and find neither him nor his brother in their beds. He could already envision his mother freaking out about that, and once they found out what happened there was going to be hell to pay. That wasn't even taking his brother's situation into account. Once Claus woke up again his resurgent memories were sure to complicate an already bad situation. "My mom and d-d-dad."

Duster immediately grasped what Lucas was getting at. "Do you want me to go get them?" he offered. Lucas winced, eliciting a quick clarification from Duster. "Don't worry, your old man and I get along great. I can soften the blow."

Lucas looked at Duster pensively, then down at Claus again. Putting it off wouldn't do them any good, even if he was in no rush to get that show underway. He did as he'd done so many times before, pushing all his fears down into the pit of his stomach and swallowing his pride. "Do it," he said quietly. He was going to disappoint them one way or another today – better to not make it worse than it had to be.

Duster stood to go. "I'll be back as soon as I can," he said. "But hey, this bum leg of mine won't let me go too fast, so don't worry about it. Enjoy some hot cocoa in the meantime. Okay?"

Lucas nodded appreciatively. It was nice to have Duster looking out for him once more, even if Duster didn't remember all the times he'd already done so. Lucas was glad to have his friends by his side again; he could tell he was going to need them.


	20. I've Got No Strings

As soon as he crested over the hill, Alec felt that something was amiss. There wasn't any light coming from the window; there weren't any kids playing in the yard. The only sign of life was the barking dog.

"Hey there, Boney," Alec greeted the brown mutt.

Boney ran over to him excitedly, jumping and barking and sniffing. That much Alec had expected. He gave the dog a hearty pat and kept walking up to the house. Peering through the window, his suspicions were validated. No one was home.

"Where is everybody?" he asked the dog.

"Woof! (I don't know,)" Boney admitted. "Woof woof! (They all left and told me to stay here.)"

Alec rubbed his chin, worrying that Boney's obedience training had outpaced his inborn loyalty. "Well this isn't exactly the warm welcome I expected," he said. After the long hike down the mountain, through the forest and into town, he was hoping to put his feet up in front of a roaring fire and relax with his family. The cold wasn't so kind to him these days. "Come on, boy. Let's go find out where they went to."

Alec left his belongings just inside the door – it wasn't locked, after all – and headed back toward town with Boney anxiously trotting beside him. The dog had been a ball of nerves ever since he'd seen Lucas and Claus sneak out in the wee hours of the morning. When Duster showed up a few hours ago to take Flint and Hinawa, too, it only made things worse. Boney hated being left out of the loop.

The town was quiet, but that wasn't too surprising on a cold day like this one. Even so, Alec spied someone heading toward the inn. "Hello!" he called out and waved to them.

The brunette woman turned. "Alec? Is that you?" It was Tessie, and she looked troubled. "What are you doing here?"

"Came to visit the family, but nobody's home," he explained with a smile. "You haven't seen them, have you?"

Tessie wrung her hands. "I have," she told him. "I just now came back from there, actually. I don't think your timing couldn't be worse."

The unease which had been building up in Alec since he walked up to the house now turned into a knot in the back of his throat. "What do you mean?" he asked nervously.

"They're all at Doc's," she explained. "Don't worry! They're fine, but . . ."

Alec's whole body stiffened. "But what?"

"But it was a close call," Tessie went on. "The boys aren't out of the woods yet."

Alec didn't even wait for her to finish explaining before he started heading toward the clinic. Boney had to restrain himself from running off ahead. He pawed the ground in agitation waiting for Alec to hurry up. Humans were obnoxiously slow sometimes. Fortunately, the clinic was not far.

As soon as Alec popped open the door, Boney lost all sense of composure and charged in at full speed, sprinting toward his masters' scents. He bounded up onto the bed and into Lucas's lap, who was shocked but not unhappy to have a panting, licking, wagging ball of warm dog fur scrambling on top of him, though it did nearly make him drop the thermometer he was _supposed_ to be keeping under his tongue.

Even though he was every bit as eager as the dog, Alec was not nearly so fast, and took a moment to notice his surroundings first. Duster was asleep on one of the chairs in the waiting area, garbed in a particularly ridiculous shirt for some reason, and Dr. Andonuts was at the desk looking peeved at yet another interruption, this one bringing in a dog, no less. Following Boney to the main event, Alec found his family all together, alive but worn out.

"Dad!" Hinawa called out to him. She would have stood to greet him if Claus wasn't leaned against her.

Breathing a sigh of relief to see everybody in one piece, Alec approached. "What happened, dear?"

"I'm so sorry we forgot about you," she apologized. "It's been a rough morning."

"I can see that," Alec acknowledged. "Don't worry about me though. Tell me what happened."

Hinawa furrowed her brow, still clearly feeling guilty over having forgotten her father's visit. "The boys fell in the river," she explained. "Thankfully Duster and Kumatora were there to pull them out."

"Kumatora?" That was a name Alec did not know.

"She's new around here," Flint cut in from the chair he sat on in the corner. "Nice girl. Sharp tongue. She's upstairs."

"I'll have to thank her then," Alec noted. "And Duster, too. How are you boys doing?"

Lucas smiled and nodded, unable to talk because of the aforementioned thermometer. Claus was quiet too, hunched forward over a half-empty mug of hot cocoa with his mother doting over him and Boney licking his cheek. Aside from looking like drowned rats, they appeared to be holding up.

"As well as can be expected," Hinawa answered for them. "We're just so glad nobody got hurt. You two gave us a real scare."

Lucas mumbled something unintelligible but apologetic. Claus still didn't say a word, probably out of guilt Alec thought. By his estimation, he had a good idea which of his grandsons got the two of them into trouble. "It seems like I picked a pretty bad day to visit," Alec said playfully.

"You can say that again," Dr. Andonuts jokingly agreed as he reentered the examination room. "Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to impose on a family emergency?"

Despite the doctor's smile, no one was laughing. Claus seemed to take special offense to it, however, glaring at Dr. Andonuts, either out of anger or maybe fear. It was the most attentive Alec had seen the older boy look since arriving.

"Alright, Lucas, let's have a look at your temperature," Dr. Andonuts said, brushing off the silence and going to retrieve the thermometer. After adjusting his spectacles to better check the reading, he turned back to the boy with a smile. "You're still a little low, but improving," he said cheerily. "I want to keep you two here for at least a few more hours though. Especially you, Claus."

Claus narrowed his eyes at that, but didn't say a word. Alec was dumbfounded over where this hostility was coming from. "Claus?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Claus answered in a gravelly voice.

"He won't let me examine him," Dr. Andonuts clarified. "I keep saying he'd get to go home a lot sooner if he would, but what do I know? I'm just the doctor, after all."

"You're no doctor," Claus hissed. "You're a butcher."

"Claus, behave yourself," his mother chided him. "Doc is only trying to help."

"Yeah. I've heard that one before," the boy grumbled.

"What's gotten into you?" Hinawa wondered. "I'm so sorry about this, Doc."

"Don't worry about it," Dr. Andonuts said dismissively. "I'm sure his attitude will change as soon as the lollipops come out."

"Claus, I think you should apologize," Hinawa said sternly.

Knuckling under to pressure from his mother, Claus swallowed his pride and did as she said. "Sorry, Doc. That was pretty . . . heartless of me. Maybe I could lend you a 'hand' sometime to make up for it."

Lucas gave Claus an intense look. "Not now," he whispered.

"Then when?" Claus demanded.

"Was there something you need to get off your chest?" Flint asked of the older twin.

Claus was about to answer when Lucas cut him off. "No. He's just grumpy."

"It sounds like you two had a busy night," Alec noted. "What happened? How'd you end up in the river?"

"It was my fault," Lucas said quickly. "It was stupid, I know. I told Claus not to come, but I'm glad he decided not to listen since I might've drowned without him."

"Liar," Claus griped through clenched teeth.

"I'm _not_ lying," Lucas insisted pointedly.

"Just like you didn't lie to me, right?" Claus asked.

"I didn't!"

"You left out the most important part!" Claus spat back. "I told you I'd always believe you and you lied!"

"I told you everything you needed to know," Lucas said defensively.

"Well I think it's about time you told everyone the truth for once, Lucas," Claus asserted. "The WHOLE truth."

"I think so too." Kumatora stepped around the corner, having come back from changing into some of Dr. Andonuts's exercise clothes, which somehow looked even more ridiculous on her than the shirt did on Duster. She still kept the blanket wrapped around her for warmth.

"Kumatora, please stay out of this," Lucas begged. "I promise I'll explain everything later, but not right now."

"Fine then," said Claus. "If you won't tell everybody, I will."

"Don't!" Lucas pleaded.

"It started almost four years ago," Claus began over his brother's objections. "A time-travelling psychopath arrived on the islands with his army. They burned down the forest and turned all the animals into monsters thanks to Dr. Frankenstein over there. I almost died when I went to do something about it, and I spent every second of the next three years wishing I had (again, thanks Doc). Then one day Lucas here showed up to fix everything. The next thing anybody knows, the whole world woke up like none of it ever happened and _he_ was the only one that still remembered. Does that about cover it?"

Claus could feel a lot of very perplexed eyes on him. He didn't care though, because he knew he was right.

"It's not . . . _quite_ that simple," Lucas argued. "But you're not wrong."

"What in the world are you two talking about?" Alec asked.

"I believe it," Kumatora said with a nod.

"You do?" Hinawa asked.

"Sure," said Kumatora. "It makes as much sense as anything else."

"It does?" Alec asked in disbelief.

"I know how it sounds," said Lucas. "Believe me, I know. You might think we've lost our minds, and I wouldn't blame you. I'm not so sure myself sometimes, but it's the truth. Things didn't happen the way everybody remembers them. But what really happened was so terrible that I don't want anyone to remember it. That's why I went out last night in the first place. I wanted to forget everything and live a normal life, but instead . . . I only made things worse. Claus, I'm . . . I'm so sorry. You have to believe me: I never wanted you to remember."

"I must say, I'm inclined to believe them," Dr. Andonuts jumped in. "At least to an extent."

"I wouldn't have expected that," Kumatora said in surprise.

"You may think I'm just a silly old man, but there's a mind up here," the doctor said as he tapped his thermometer against his bald forehead. "I've been noticing inconsistencies for some time now. I even keep a little log of them. Most of it is fairly mundane – a lapse in memory, an unexplained skill, that sort of thing. If it were only me, I'd chalk it up to old age, but it's not. Everyone seems confident enough about the past and their memories of it until you start to press a little harder. A lot of the older folks like me could tell you where they grew up, but they might not be able to tell you what their favorite toy was as a child, or who their neighbors were, or the names of their pets. Did you ever notice how the Nowhere Islands have no history or traditions, even though we've always been here? It all points to someone meddling with our memories. I can't say that this story of yours is the truth, boys, but in light of my own observations, I can't rule it out."

"That's an awful lot to ask us to believe," said Hinawa.

"Too much, I'd say," Alec added. "I may be old, but I can still account for every day I've lived here. I can still tell you what I had for breakfast on my wedding day. I can point you to the very spot in my living room where my daughter took her first steps. I remember how my grandsons smelled the first time I saw them, with their little wrinkled hands and red faces. You can't tell me none of that happened."

"It did," Lucas assured him. "It all happened. But some things didn't go quite like you remember."

"It's not so unusual, is it?" Dr. Andonuts suggested. "You could swear you left your glasses on the table but they're not there. You're certain you've read a book before, but when you open it up you find it's not how you remember. A million little things that you never think about can hide in plain sight because you're not looking for them. The brain is an amazing thing, but it tricks us more than we'd like to admit."

"This isn't a lost set of keys," Flint pointed out. "Last time I checked, the forest is still standing and the animals seem just fine."

"Yes, it is a bit more than forgetfulness," Dr. Andonuts admitted. "But if something had the ability to rewrite everyone's memories, is it so hard to imagine that it might have the potential to do far more than that? The Nowhere Islands have always housed strange and mysterious powers. Perhaps this is one of them."

"What could do something like that?" Alec wondered. He shuddered at the thought of having his memories altered. He could scarcely imagine a worse violation than robbing someone of their past.

"The Dragon," Lucas said plainly. "It's responsible for everything."

Flint wasn't a religious man. He believed in people more than ancient unseen entities and magic powers. He did believe in the power of faith, though, and so far it hadn't steered him wrong. "I don't see how," he said. "Even if you believe in that sort of thing, why would the Dragon do this?"

"It's not the Dragon," Claus cut in. "It's Porky."

"It can't be," Lucas objected before anyone could ask who Porky was. "Porky's someplace where he can't hurt anyone ever again. I don't even know if he still exists, but I know he's not responsible for making the world this way. I've lived in the sort of world he'd make, and it was not a happy and peaceful place."

"You don't know him like I do," Claus responded in a hushed tone. "I've had him inside my head. I know how sadistic that _thing_ can be. If he saw some sort of novelty in it, he'd string you along for a hundred years just to pull the rug out from under your feet right at the end. He's the only one powerful enough and cruel enough to be behind this."

"Look, it doesn't matter who's to blame," Kumatora pointed out. "Where do we go from here?"

"I know where I'm going," Claus said grimly. "I'm gonna find Porky and I'm gonna kill him. And if he can't die, then I'll make him wish he could."

"That's enough, Claus," said Hinawa. "You've been through a lot. For now, focus on getting better and let us take care of you."

"Mom's right. Getting angry won't help," Lucas agreed. "You still remember what happened the last time you went looking for revenge, don't you?"

Claus clenched his jaw. He remembered, alright. Of course Lucas would throw that back in his face. "I'm not going to sit around doing nothing," he growled. "I'm done having my head messed with. I'm done being somebody's toy. This has to stop, and it has to stop now."

"Where would you go?" Lucas asked. "Do you even know where to start, or are you going to head outside naked as the day you were born and walk until you collapse in the snow and die? Is that your plan?"

"Well it wouldn't be the first time I died now would it?" the redhead asked. "Everything was supposed to get better. I was supposed to be free and happy and with mom again but look what happened!"

"Please calm down, sweetheart," Hinawa pleaded with her eldest.

"I won't calm down!" Claus snapped. "You don't get it! None of you get it! You died, mom! You died and everything fell apart! And then when I finally thought I was gonna get to see you again I lost everything that made me who I am. It was ripped away from me AGAIN." Tears began to well up in the boy's eyes and his hands shook. "I never got the chance to tell you how much I missed you."

A heavy silence fell over the group with Claus's revelation. Even the skeptical ones among them recognized the sincerity behind the boy's words. The thought of losing Hinawa filled both Alec and Flint with oppressive dread and a deep, boiling anger. Kumatora chewed on her fingernails, for the first time considering that her own memories may be a can of worms not worth opening if they held such secrets. Hinawa herself felt a deep ache in her chest, not for herself, but for those she feared to leave behind. Seeing the pain on her son's face was only a small taste of her deepest fears made real.

It was Lucas who finally broke the silence. "I get it, Claus. Sometimes I wish I didn't but I do. Getting mad and lashing out won't help though. What can help is . . . us. Mom and dad and Boney and me."

"What about the next time, huh?" Claus asked. "What happens when we all lose our memories again? Are we going to sit here and take it? Are we all just the playthings for some unseen monster? Is any of this even real? Does anything matter?" All the questions Claus had spent the last few hours mulling over in his mind poured out of his mouth one after another.

"Of course it matters," Hinawa said as she emphatically wrapped Claus in her arms. "Every single day matters. And whatever you might think, you matter too. You matter more than you could imagine to me and your father and brother and grandfather and to everyone else. We all care about you so much, and I know my heart would break if anything ever happened to you." She smoothed back his hair and planted a firm kiss on his forehead before going on. "You two are the light of my life. That's never going to change. That matters a lot more than memories."

"Claus, please," Lucas begged. "Listen to mom. You can't give up now."

"Why not?!" Claus demanded as he felt more tears slip down his cheeks.

"Because that's not who you are," Lucas responded in a calm, quiet voice. "You're Claus and nobody gets to tell you otherwise. You have the biggest heart of anyone I know. You care too much for your own good sometimes, and when it backfires you cry like a baby until you feel better. I don't want to see you hide who you are behind . . . a mask. Not again."

Claus had run out of bile, but in its place there came a new, stubborn silence. Lucas knew he could reach his brother if he kept trying. That's when he spied it. Leaping up, Lucas ran over to grab one of the doctor's implements off the counter before rushing back over to Claus with it in his hand.

"Here, put this on," Lucas told his brother.

Claus took the instrument more out of reflex at having it thrown in his face than any actual interest. He looked down at it while Lucas warmed the other end with his breath. "What's this?" he asked.

"Stethoscope," Lucas explained. "Put it on."

Defeated, Claus obeyed and put the tips into his ears. With that done, Lucas reached under his brother's blanket to place the other end against Claus's chest. After a few moments, Claus heard a noise as clear as day.

Thump-thump.

Thump-thump.

Thump-thump.

It was the sound of his own heartbeat. Despite his memories, Claus's heart was right where it should be.

"This," Lucas said definitively. "This matters. This is real."

Claus continued listening to the strong, steady beat of his heart. He was not some wooden puppet to be toyed with. He was a real boy with a real heart and real feelings. No one was ever going to take that away from him again.


	21. Magypsy's Memento

"You want to call it for today?" Duster asked as he watched the sun sinking lower in the late afternoon sky. "We can start up again bright and early in the morning."

Kumatora let out a frustrated groan. "What's the point?" she asked. "We might as well face facts: it's gone." All that time and energy wasted. She'd gotten so close to her prize, but it slipped from her grasp like so many names and faces from her half-remembered history.

The duo had once again reached the spot where the river met the sea, having found nothing but muck, reeds and the occasional bit of refuse. Even if the water hadn't been freezing, the high cliffs on either side river for most of its length made a search nearly impossible. Their efforts were doomed from the outset.

"Don't lose hope," Duster implored his companion.

"If I have to walk through this pig farm once more I'm gonna leave with a lifetime's supply of bacon," Kumatora threatened as she kicked a rock over the cliff. "I swear: we could search up and down this stupid river a hundred times and never find it. For all we know it's washed out to sea or buried under the mud or in the belly of that snake. It is _gone_."

Duster hated to admit it, but the princess was probably right. "It's just as well. That egg didn't seem to do Claus any good."

"Yeah, no kidding," Kumatora acknowledged. That was another reason she was ready to give up on the search: she was in no rush to have her head messed with.

Duster blew out a short puff of air as he rolled his shoulders. "Well, even if we didn't find the egg, this trip wasn't a complete write-off. At least Lucas can help you fill in the blanks. He told you all about those people. What were they called again?"

"Magypsies," Kumatora answered grouchily.

The thief gave her a cheery smile. "See? That's more than you knew a few days ago, so it's not like this has been a total bust."

"Yeah, yeah," Kumatora said with a nod. "It's no substitute for having lived it, though. Besides, there's a lot of stuff even Lucas doesn't know about them."

"I guess that's true," Duster had to admit.

Kumatora didn't say anything back right away. She simply stared out at the rolling waves, her brow knit and foot tapping. Her whole body was surging with nervous energy that had nowhere to go. "Come on," she finally said, waving him along. "Let's get back to the inn before my fingers go numb."

"Don't forget, Hinawa and Flint invited us over for dinner," Duster reminded her.

The princess twitched at that revelation. "Crap. Do we have to?"

"If we don't they'll keep asking," Duster warned her.

Kumatora snorted in annoyance. "Jeez. You fall in a river and the next thing you know you can't get a minute to yourself."

"I know, right?" Duster asked with a chuckle. "The nerve of some people: trying to thank you for saving their kids' lives."

"Don't you start with me," Kumatora frowned. "I didn't sign up for the hero treatment."

Duster gave in with a patient smile, knowing there was no use arguing. "If you insist."

There was something so infuriating about getting her way without a fight. "Fine," Kumatora huffed. "We'll go. But if they try to give me a fruit basket, I'm out."

Duster chuckled at the thought. "I wouldn't worry about it." No matter what Hinawa was cooking it was sure to be better than what they'd get from the inn. His mouth was already watering at the possibilities.

As they began to pass over the bridge back into town, Duster motioned for Kumatora to wait up for him.

"Did you see something?" she asked quizzically, her eyes darting over the water.

"No, afraid not," Duster said with a hiss of pain. "Sorry to get your hopes up." He leaned against the railing and reached down to massage a knot in his leg. Between the cold and all the walking over rough terrain, the last few days were catching up to him.

"Don't worry about it," Kumatora said, recognizing the issue and joining him against the railing. "Want me to see if I can do something? A little psychic surgery to take the edge off?"

Duster chuckled. "No need. It'll only be a minute or two. If you want you can go ahead without me – maybe grab a change of clothes before dinner." The truth was he'd prefer to be alone for this. His leg rarely bothered him, but when it did he hated having anyone else see it. Duster refused to be thought of as an invalid.

Kumatora didn't go anywhere, but she also didn't turn away or give him the pitying look he'd come to expect whenever someone saw him in this state. Instead she met his eyes with the same endearing confidence as always. The first time he saw that look was after a performance about a month ago; she showed up out of the blue looking for a thief to help her scale Snowcap Mountain. Duster normally wouldn't have involved himself in such an outlandish adventure, but his bandmates insisted on lending a hand. He was glad they did.

Needing to take his mind off the shooting pain in his leg, Duster asked the question that had been on his mind the last couple days. "So I hate to ask, but what's next for you?"

"If you hate to ask, then don't," Kumatora answered briskly.

"Sorry," Duster apologized. "Was that out of line?"

Kumatora sighed. "No. I just wish I had a better answer than 'I don't know.' It makes me sound like I don't have a clue what I'm doing."

Getting a laugh out of Duster was not hard for Kumatora. "Does anybody?" he pondered.

A grin graced Kumatora's face at the thought of everyone else being as screwed up as she was. "I sure hope they do. If not we're in a lot of trouble."

"Fair enough," Duster said with a nod. "Well, you don't have to decide right away. I wouldn't mind a few days to kick back before we head off to whatever comes next."

"We?" Kumatora asked, almost impressed by his presumption.

"Yeah, we," Duster asserted. "I'm not about to leave you in a lurch. Whether you want to stick around here or head back to Saturn Valley or take a spaceship to the farthest stars in the sky, I want to come. OJ says we need to go on tour anyway."

"A spaceship, huh? I'll hold you to that." Kumatora leaned back to look up into the clear blue sky above. She'd come this far. What was a few more light-years?

He'd said it as a joke, but with how crazy their journey together had already been, Duster realized that prediction was not outside the realm of possibility. "These Magypsies you're after must be pretty special," he concluded.

Kumatora didn't answer at first. It should have been simple enough to say yes, but when she thought about it she realized it wasn't true. "Not really," she eventually confessed.

The thief hadn't been expecting that. "Why not?" It seemed strange to go to so much work for something if it wasn't important.

"Well, I don't even know them," Kumatora explained. "I mean, I guess I _did_ know them, but not anymore. None of it even felt familiar when Lucas told me what he knows." That whole conversation had been a great big disappointment for her. "I thought finding out about my past might help me make sense of everything, but it's a bunch of people I don't know and will never meet."

"So why keep looking?" Duster wondered.

"That's a good question." Kumatora had no answer to it. "Do you want to know something interesting about them?" she asked, changing the subject.

Duster was happy to let Kumatora steer the conversation. "Sure."

"Lucas was telling me that they were great psychics," Kumatora went on. "They lived for thousands of years and could master any kind of PSI technique there is . . . all except for one: PK Love. Isn't that strange?"

"What's so special about PK Love?" Duster asked. He'd seen what Kumatora could do on many occasions, but still couldn't grasp all this psychic mumbo-jumbo. It mattered to the princess, though, so he was willing to listen.

"Only a chosen few can learn that technique," Kumatora continued. "Lucas says that those who did could wake up the Dragon. Since the Magypsies were the ones in charge of keeping the Dragon asleep, they couldn't exactly learn it themselves."

So far it seemed straightforward enough to Duster. "Makes sense."

"But I've been thinking there's another reason," Kumatora explained. "See, Lucas told me that the Magypsies didn't really care about people. Our lives are too short and inconsequential for them to notice. It does make sense, I guess. How much could you care about anyone after you were alive for ten thousand years? Think of all the people who'd be born, grow old, and die in that time. A single human lifetime would be nothing."

"What does that have to do with PK Love?" Duster asked.

"The clue is in the name, knucklehead," Kumatora joked. "You need a lot of love to learn that technique. That's why only a few people can do it, and why the Magypsies never could. I think they were too detached to love anyone."

Duster shook his head. "How sad. Living for that long doesn't sound worthwhile without love."

"How's that for a kick in the teeth?" Kumatora asked. "I must've loved them, but I guess it wasn't mutual. And now here I am busting my ass to try and remember people that wouldn't remember me." Kumatora couldn't help but laugh.

Duster put a hand on Kumatora's shoulder to offer some small comfort. He was surprised when she didn't shake him off.

After a few seconds of looking down at her boots, Kumatora kept going. "The stupid thing is this all started because I thought I'd lost something. I thought if I found it I'd be . . . I dunno . . . whole, or whatever. So much for that."

"Hey." Duster gave her a little shake and looked her in the eye. "Don't lose hope."

"Yeah, yeah." It was easy enough to spout off about hope and love and anything else. Kumatora was done making time for pseudo-philosophical nonsense.

"Listen," Duster persisted. "This might not be what you want to hear, but finding out where you came from isn't going to make you whole. Neither will some stupid egg or even love. Whatever you need to feel complete isn't somewhere out there. I think it's a lot closer to home."

Kumatora rolled her eyes. "Could you get any cheesier?"

"I could always try," Duster said with a grin. "I hope you're not lactose intolerant."

She gave him a playful shove. "Get up, ya moron. We'd better get ready for dinner."


	22. Adding Fuel to the Fire

With a soft thud, the axe buried itself halfway into the log and stuck there, much to Fuel's annoyance. He leaned forward, his breath coming out as a pale fog with each grunt as he gradually wiggled the axe free. He was never going to get the hang of this.

It didn't help that his hands were shaking from the cold, or that the axe was dull, or that the wood was swollen and nearly too damp to even be useful as kindling. He'd much rather be huddled inside, wrapped up in a warm blanket and waiting out the rest of winter like a bear in its den. But no, he had to chop wood for the stove. Stupid stove. Stupid logs. Stupid axe. Winter had barely even begun but he couldn't wait for spring.

The axe head finally popped free, leaving him with a half-split log that he tossed aside in favor of another, hopefully more cooperative piece of lumber. Placing the fresh wood down on the old stump that served as his chopping block, Fuel carefully lined up his shot, shuffled his feet, centered his weight, pulled back, and swung.

Another soft thud, another half-split log, and a disappointed groan from Fuel. Today was not his day.

"Good morning!"

Great, now he had an audience to watch him fail miserably. Fuel turned to look and saw Lucas coming up the path to his house. "Hey," Fuel waved back, dropping his axe and the log stuck to it where Lucas hopefully wouldn't notice.

"How's it going?" Lucas asked as he drew closer.

"Pretty good!" Fuel responded with a fake grin. "Just, uh, chopping some wood for the fire. It's so easy I could do this in my sleep." He laughed, even though he could tell Lucas wasn't quite buying it. "What about you? How are things?"

"Still breathing," Lucas joked.

Fuel cringed at his own faux pas. "I, uh, didn't want to, you know, bring that up or anything," he apologized. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Lucas reassured him. "We're all still here."

"Yeah, that's what matters." Fuel needled himself for his insensitivity. "Um, so . . . sorry I didn't, uh, stop by or anything. I figured you'd be busy or whatever." He looked away, sheepishly scratching his arm.

"Is your dad around?" Lucas wondered. "I'm supposed to ask him something."

"No, he's out," Fuel answered, his energy returning thanks to the change of subject. "I can take a message."

"My dad and grandpa are taking us fishing tomorrow," Lucas explained. "They were wondering if you and your dad want to come too."

"Fishing, huh?" Fuel asked. Fish could make for a nice change of pace from nut bread.

"Don't worry. The plan this time is to stay on dry land," Lucas chuckled, trying to ease his own worries as much as any Fuel might have.

Fuel did his best to laugh along with his friend, all while biting his cheek. "I'll see if he's up for it. Don't get your hopes up, though. Dad says this is our busy time of year."

"Really?" Lucas gave Fuel a confused look. "I thought winter was your slow season."

"Is it?" Fuel was truly awful at lying. "Weird. Anyway, I got your message. Thanks for stopping by, glad you're not dead."

Lucas lingered in place to Fuel's irritation. As if things weren't already awkward enough. "Hey, Fuel?" he asked after a few seconds of careful reflection. "Can we talk about something?"

A distressed grimace crossed Fuel's face. "Please don't tell me you like me too," he begged. "I can't handle that again."

Lucas groaned, mentally questioning his brother's taste. "This is about Claus."

Judging from Fuel's expression, that didn't help the situation. "He's mad, isn't he?"

"That's not important," Lucas told him.

"He is! I knew it!" Fuel threw his hands up in the air and started to pace back and forth.

"Settle down," Lucas said patiently, waiting for his friend to listen for once.

"Crap! I knew I should've come to see how you guys were doing," Fuel babbled. "How hard is it to stop by and make sure your friends are still alive? Stupid, stupid, stupid! And after that whole thing with him, y'know, saying that stuff and me running away like a big dumb idiot. Dammit! What is WRONG with me lately? I am just the _worst_!"

Once Fuel ran out of steam, Lucas spoke up again. "It's okay, Fuel. I'm not here to talk about that."

"You're mad too!" Fuel said accusingly. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm really, really sorry! I know I should've come to see you guys right away, but I'm super bad at dealing with emergencies and I'm sure I would've said something stupid like I always do. You know that about me! I'm Fuel the idiot that can't open his mouth without sticking his foot in it!" He looked mortified as he ranted, rubbing his forehead and covering his face with his hands. "And the worst part is that I know there's no excuse! I should've showed up anyway, but I didn't and now I feel so awful about everything and you're never going to forgive me."

"It's not a big deal," Lucas said to try talking him down. Fuel had a nasty habit of blowing things out of proportion, which only got worse the longer he was allowed to stew on a problem. Lucas regretted allowing this to fester for so long. "I forgive you."

Fuel eyed the blonde with marked skepticism. ". . . Really?"

"Really," Lucas swore. "It's water under the bridge. The only thing I want is for you to talk to Claus. That's all."

Fuel looked spooked at the suggestion and shook his head. "No. No way. I can't! Not after all that! He must want me dead!"

"He doesn't want you dead," Lucas stressed. "He's not mad, just . . . lonely. I think talking to you might do him a lot of good."

Fuel pointed at himself. "Me? Are you kidding?! I'm the last person he wants to see right now! Especially after I kinda, sorta shot him down, but not really because I didn't even say anything and just ran away like a little wuss and left him _literally_ out in the cold, which is way, way, WAY worse than coming out and saying I don't like him back even though I do like him but don't like-like him. Not that that's his fault; it's just not how I roll, if you know what I'm saying. You get me, right? I mean, nothing against him, but I've got a reputation to live up to."

Lucas was constantly flabbergasted that Fuel could manage to get both Claus AND Angie to take an interest. Tazmily really was desperately low on eligible bachelors. "I'm asking you to talk to him, not take him on a date. In fact it would be better if you didn't even bring that up."

"Just talk to him?" Fuel asked. "About what?"

"Anything!" Lucas gave an exasperated answer. "Talk about the weather if you like. It doesn't matter as long as you do it. Just have a normal conversation. It sounds like you both need it."

"But what if it's weird?" Fuel posited. "I don't wanna be weird around him! Look at what happened last time!"

"So what?" Lucas asked. "Laugh it off like you always do. Maybe don't run away this time."

Fuel folded his arms in front of himself uncomfortably. "I dunno. Are you sure he doesn't hate me?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Lucas responded with absolute certainty. "If anything he's convinced you're the one who hates him."

"What?" That caught Fuel on the back foot. "No way! I don't hate him."

"That's what I keep telling Claus, but he won't listen," Lucas said with a shrug. "I think it'd mean a lot more coming from you."

Fuel furrowed his brow as he thought it over. If anything he felt even guiltier than before for making Claus think he hated him. Why couldn't he ever do anything right? Everyone in the village had some sort of skill or talent or other way to be useful, and then there was Fuel. He'd already proven to be a crappy friend on top of everything else, but if there was ever a time to try and fix things this was it. "Do you promise he's not mad?"

"Cross my heart," Lucas guaranteed.

Anxiety churned in Fuel's guts as he realized he'd have to actually talk to Claus. He almost would have preferred to hear that the redhead really was mad at him so he wouldn't have to go through with this, but he had no such luck. He should have known Claus wouldn't hold a grudge.

Then there was Lucas, acting as if the last few weeks never happened. Whatever was stuck in his craw seemed to have finally worked its way free. "What's your deal?" Fuel wondered out loud.

"Huh?" Lucas asked, backing up slightly.

Fuel shook his head. "I don't get you sometimes, Lucas. One day you won't even leave your house, and the next you're your old self again. What gives? Is this one of those near-death experience sorta things?"

Lucas couldn't help but laugh. "No, no. Nothing as crazy as that."

"So then what is it?" Fuel asked.

Lucas shrugged. "I can't afford to sit around moping when Claus needs my help." Considering all he'd already done, all the struggles and pain he'd been through fighting against the pigmask army, putting his own fears and worries aside for the sake of his brother came as second nature to him. Lucas felt more at home now than he had in months. This was his element. This was where he was at his best. The only real shame was that it meant someone else had to be at their worst.

"So you'll do anything to help someone else, but not yourself?" Fuel shook his head in disbelief at his friend. "That's messed up."

A laugh escaped Lucas's throat before he could stop it. He had to admit: Fuel wasn't wrong. "Yeah, maybe."

Fuel relaxed his stance as a warm smile spread over his face. It was good to see Lucas feeling better again. "So fishing, huh?"

"That's the plan, at least," Lucas confirmed with a lazy nod.

"I'll have to see what my dad says," Fuel reiterated. "But I hope he says yes."


	23. Like Father, Like Son

A sharp pop sent an ember fleeing from the fireplace, the tiny spark burning a bright orange for a few seconds as it was carried up like a mote of dust until it flickered and died. The old rocking chair creaked on its worn legs in front of the fireplace, its every knick and stain as familiar to its occupant as his own hand. Claus traced a finger over a scratch in the armrest which was almost as old as he was. How many nights had his mother rocked him to sleep in that very chair when he was younger? He couldn't remember. No, his memories were of far darker times. The hand tracing over the scarred armrest was his own, yet he had lost it a long time ago.

"Claus?"

His father's voice stirred him from his rumination. Looking up with a jolt, the boy answered automatically. "Yeah?"

"You got a minute?" Flint asked.

Claus gave a reluctant nod. "Uh-huh." He couldn't exactly claim to be busy.

Flint drew nearer, his pace relaxed. He went to warm his hands, but noticed the fire was dying down so he grabbed the poker and jabbed at the logs to stir the flames. Even without saying a word, his creased lips and drained expression made his intentions clear. Claus knew this was going to be one of _those_ talks. It almost made the boy long for the time when his father had explained the birds and the bees to him and his brother – or rather the rams and the ewes in Flint's example.

Finally replacing the poker on its stand, Flint leaned against the mantle and pondered where to begin. He looked at his son, the boy's mournful eyes so very much like his own in every regard, and began. "I've been talking to Lucas."

Claus twitched slightly. He would give anything for someone else to come home and save him from this conversation. "About what?"

"What happened," Flint said in his usual, straightforward manner. His demeanor, like his voice, was unfaltering. It made him hard to read, even for someone that knew him as well as Claus. "He says you've been through a lot."

"Can we not do this?" Claus implored his father.

As much as Claus didn't want to talk about this, Flint was even more reluctant. "It's not fun, I know," he pressed on despite his misgivings. "But being a dad isn't all fun and games. This is something I've got to do. Whether or not you listen, well . . . I hope something sinks in."

Claus tensed up, shifting uncomfortably in the rocking chair and gripping the armrests as he resigned himself to his fate.

"I'm sorry," Flint continued. "For what I did the night your mother . . . I made a mistake." Listening to Lucas recount that night had been painful to sit through. He couldn't fathom how much it must have hurt to witness. "I didn't act like I ought to."

Claus winced. That day was a blur, but his father's reaction was burned into his memory. The man who was always so calm and steady, the foundation of his entire worldview, fell apart in front of him. "It's okay," he tried consoling his father. "That wasn't you."

"Maybe. Maybe not." As easy as it was to think he might handle it differently, Flint couldn't know what he would do in the face of such loss. His sons did, though. They knew what was lurking deep within him, and how he would react to being pushed past his breaking point. "Whether or not that was me, it still affected you. It might be too little too late, but a man's got to admit when he's wrong."

It hadn't even occurred to Claus that his father ought to apologize for what he did. He'd hurt a few people, sure, but not badly. And who could blame him? "You weren't wrong, though," Claus told him.

Flint was unflinching, his voice filled with quiet certitude. "Yes, I was. There's no excusing that."

"But mom was dead," Claus persisted. "If that's not an excuse then I don't know what is."

"You can understand it, sure; most folks would. But that still doesn't excuse it." Flint breathed deeply before he went on. "Do you remember when you broke your leg?"

Claus nodded. He was eight at the time, and was playing in the yard with Lucas. He'd climbed a tree but couldn't get his brother to join him, and when he jumped down he overestimated himself. He was laid up for over a month. "What about it?"

"And do you also remember how you didn't have to do any chores until you were all better?" Flint pointed out. "You couldn't have done them if you wanted to. That's a good excuse. But, unlike you, I had a choice. I didn't have to lash out at friends who were only trying to help. I didn't have to make a scene in front of you and your brother. I set a terrible example, and I'm sorry."

Those words had been a long time coming. "You couldn't have said so sooner?" Claus asked with a soft chuckle.

"I dearly wish I had," said Flint. "But wishing things were different won't make it so."

"Tell that to Lucas," Claus joked.

Flint smiled at that, glad to see his son's sense of humor was still in there, peeking out. "Think of this as a second chance," he said. "Let's try and do things right this time around."

"How?" Claus asked.

"Well, we can start with a clean slate," Flint suggested. "And the only way to do that is by apologizing. I'm sorry I let you down after your mother died."

Claus hung his head. "What's the point?" he asked. "If there's no excusing how you acted, then why even bother saying you're sorry?"

Flint remained as patient as ever. "All I said was that there's no excuse. That doesn't mean you can't forgive me, if you want to."

Claus looked into his father's face, seeing genuine remorse over something he couldn't even remember doing. For the longest time he'd believed there was nothing to forgive, but now he could see how that moment was eating at the man. That same pained expression had graced his face in the caverns beneath New Pork City. "I forgive you," he whispered.

"Thank you," Flint said with a slight nod. The cowboy then stepped away from the fireplace, bending down until he was on the same level as his son and took off his hat. "Do you have anything to apologize for?"

He did, and he was desperate to say so. "I'm sorry I went after the dragos," he answered quietly.

"I forgive you," Flint echoed back. "I'm sorry I wasn't fast enough to save you."

"I forgive you." Each time he spoke the words came louder and easier. "I'm sorry I joined the pigmasks."

"Did you have a choice?" Flint inquired.

Claus shook his head. He never had a choice, not until the moment when his mother's voice finally reached him in front of the last Needle. "No . . ."

"Then you're excused," Flint told him. "But for what it's worth, I still forgive you."

Ever since he opened his eyes in the water beneath Osohe Castle with the Hummingbird Egg still clutched in his hand, Claus had felt a vague terror creeping around in the back of his mind. In the days since, he'd grown more familiar with it. He was ashamed, both of what he'd become and of the deeds he'd done at Porky's command. Even though he was whole again, he still felt like a chimera. It was a feeling he could never shake off on his own, but when he admitted to his wrongdoings and his father forgave him, he felt like he might someday be himself again.

Claus still had one more thing to apologize for. "I'm sorry I . . ." he paused to swallow nervously before going on; ". . . k-killed myself." Saying it out loud stung. If he was going to apologize to anyone for that it should have been Lucas. After all, Claus had used his brother to do it.

"I forgive you," Flint said, his voice shuddering as an unnamable emotion welled up from deep within. He went quiet for a few moments, cautiously mulling over his son's admission and regaining his composure before clearing his throat. "Are you going to do it again?"

Claus wanted to say no. As easy as it was to think he'd learned his lesson, he couldn't be so sure. He'd found out what he would do when pushed past his breaking point once. How could he be certain it wouldn't happen again? ". . . I don't know."

It might not have been the answer he wanted, but Flint knew it was at least an honest one. "I see." He couldn't begrudge his son for being truthful with him.

"Dad, I—" Claus cut himself off, shifting in the chair again. The firelight danced over his father's steely eyes as more smoldering embers broke free, floated up and fizzled out. He began again, quieter than before. "I think I need help."

"That's what I'm here for," Flint assured his son, reaching out to put a hand on the boy's knee. "Whatever you need, we'll make sure you have it." It would probably take a bit longer to heal than a broken leg, but this was a start.

* * *

[A/N: Question time again! Which ongoing plots most interest you? What do you want to see more of? Can you not get enough of Fuel and Claus? Are Duster and Kumatora begging for more attention? Does Lucas need to delve deeper into the Dragon's mysteries? Perhaps there's something going on in the background that you'd like explored out in the open. Help me out so I know what's grabbing your attention, or alternatively what plots are boring and need to be wrapped up.]


	24. Old Man's Paradise

It was a busy night for the Yado Inn; the townspeople flocked there for warmth and company on cold nights like this one. Even Wess was no exception, though he did arrive later than most.

"What'll it be, Mr. Wess?" Jackie asked as the thief stepped up to the bar, still shivering from the walk through town.

"Whiskey," Wess answered.

"Coming right up," Jackie told him as he went to grab a glass.

"Well well, if it isn't old man Wess," Mike said with a big grin. He was standing at the bar with Alec and nursing his own drink.

"Don't give me that," Wess scowled. "I'm not even the oldest one here."

Alec laughed. "Good to see you, Wess. How've you been?"

Jackie handed Wess's drink to him, which the old man immediately took a sip of. "Getting better," he said, licking his lips.

"I'd tell you to pull up a seat if there were any," said Mike. "Would it kill you guys to get some stools in this place, Jackie?"

"Can't do that," Jackie answered with a smirk. "If we did, we'd have all sorts of troublemakers crowding around the bar." He pointedly eyed the trio.

"Back in my day we respected our elders," Alec grumbled. "All this standing around is murder on my lower back."

"And walking down that mountain like a fool half your age wasn't?" Wess asked.

"I'm not ready to slip off my hiking boots yet," Alec harrumphed. "The moment I do, you'll know it's time to put me in the ground."

"I'd better tell Nippolyte to get his shovel ready then," Wess joked.

"You could, but you'd be making a grave mistake," Alec warned him.

Both Mike and Wess groaned at Alec's pun. "Forget what I was saying earlier," Mike muttered. "You come down to visit too often as it is."

"Save those puns of yours for the grandkids," Wess suggested.

Alec chuckled, looking quite pleased with himself. "Don't think I haven't given them an earful."

"It's a wonder they let you," Mike griped. "If I told jokes as bad as yours I'd never even see my grandkids. Not that I do anyway."

Alec knew a bluff when he heard it. "Quit your bellyaching; you see them plenty. Some of us are lucky if we get to see ours once every few months."

"You're better off without 'em," Wess cut in. "Who needs some screaming, snotty little brats nipping at their heels all the time?"

Alec and Mike exchanged a knowing look. "Sounds to me like somebody's a little jealous," Mike hinted.

"Hardly," Wess scoffed into his drink. "I'm not looking to spend my twilight years as a glorified babysitter."

"Hey don't worry about it, pal," Alec said, giving Wess a slap on the back that nearly made him spill his whiskey. "You've still got plenty of time. Who knows? It might happen sooner than you think."

"Are you kidding?" Wess asked. "That boy of mine looks _and smells_ like a horse's backside. Even if he somehow found a woman desperate enough, I'd feel real sorry for those poor kids."

"I don't know about that," Mike opined. "Have you two seen that pretty little thing he's been stuck to like glue? Face of an angel, arms like an ox: I'd say she's got enough good stock in her to cancel out whatever might come from your side, Wess."

"Princess Kumatora?" Wess asked indignantly. "She's got too much self-respect to give that moron the time of day."

A smile graced Alec's face as he stroked his beard thoughtfully. "So she's a princess, huh? Good for him. We should all be so lucky."

Wess gave the pair a sour look. "Did you old coots go senile when I wasn't looking?"

All Alec could do was shrug. "Those two came over for dinner the other day, actually. I may be an old coot, but I know what smitten looks like when I see it."

"Besides, Wess," Mike began. "Even if he does look like you, he's got something no woman can resist: he's a musician."

Rolling his eyes, Wess took another sip of his drink. "Don't remind me. He was already pretty useless before. Now he's completely useless."

Mike shook his head. "You can drop the act around us. You're proud of him and you know it."

"Musician, huh? When did that happen?" Alec wondered.

"A couple days after the festival," Mike explained. "Walked right up to this old goat here and told him what's what. I'm surprised you couldn't hear the ranting and raving from up in that log cabin of yours."

"What sort of job is that for a man?" Wess demanded.

"Oh pipe down," Mike said as he took a drink. "You wish you had that kind of gumption."

"I _wish_ I had a switch!" Wess corrected him. "Show that little punk a thing or two, I tell you . . ."

"You gotta admit, it's better than being a thief," Alec smirked.

It was bad enough that they were haranguing him over Duster, but Wess was not about to let his friends insult his career. "Thievery is a very important job, I'll have you know," he snorted.

"Nobody's saying it isn't," Mike backtracked. "But y'know, maybe it's not an important job for him."

Wess squinted at Mike. "Easy for you to say. I still remember when we all had to get our 'slightly unclean, not quite new' merchandise from Mike's Bazaar. And at this rate it'll be Nichol's Bazaar before too long given how often that kid's behind the counter."

"It's the family business!" Mike defended himself. "Besides, do you really want your son running around dangerous dungeons and whatnot once he's got a couple little rugrats to worry about? The worst he has to deal with now is a rowdy audience."

"He could be so much more though!" Wess insisted as he looked down into his swirling drink. "I trained that boy to be the cleverest, fastest, sneakiest son of a gun in the Nowhere Islands since he was knee-high to a mole cricket, and even though he's none of those things he could still do a lot better than playing bass in some roadside dive for a bunch of drunk yahoos."

"See, Wess?" Mike asked. "You are proud of him."

Wess grimaced when he realized he'd tipped his hand. "Shut up and drink."

Mike and Alec chuckled at their friend's embarrassment. They were all a little older, but some things hadn't changed in the last twenty years. "I'll let you in on a little secret," Alec whispered. "It's okay to be proud of your kids."

"Of course you'd say that," Wess groused. "I don't remember Hinawa ever giving you an ounce of trouble. As near as I can figure the worst thing she ever did to you was give you two perfect grandsons. How dare she?"

"Two perfect grandsons that might not be here without that 'moron' of yours," Alec reminded him.

Even Wess couldn't deny the truth of what Alec said. "Yeah, well, you know what they say about blind squirrels," he grumbled. Despite his best efforts to hide it behind a sip of whiskey, both Mike and Alec spied the beaming smile that graced Wess's mug.

"Go ahead, pretend to be a grumpy old man all you like," said Mike. "It'll be that much more satisfying when you're in here bragging about your own little sprouts, showing off photos and telling tales 'til you're blue in the face."

"What, and turn into one of you goons?" Wess shook his head. "Never happen."

"You say that now, but just you wait," Alec warned him. "There's no man born of this world who can be humble when it comes to his grandkids."

"Well if it's gonna happen then it better happen real quick," Wess snapped. "I don't want to be Scamp's age by the time I've got something to brag about."

Alec and Mike went quiet when they realized Wess's concern wasn't so far out there. Ever since Scamp died more than a year earlier they found themselves in the unenviable position of being Tazmily's most senior citizens. "When did we get so old?" Mike asked suddenly.

Wess took a drink and curled his lips. "We're not. The kids these days are just too dang young."

"Try telling my back that," Alec groaned as he stretched his aching muscles.

"Quit complaining," Wess sneered. "If it bothers you so much then go see Doc about it."

"Not a chance. I've got a bone to pick with that guy," Alec grinned fiendishly. "He says my back won't bother me as much if I lose a few pounds, but I say I'm perfectly 'spine' just the 'weigh' I am."

Mike shook his head as Wess downed the rest of his drink and ordered another. Hopefully Alec wouldn't be in town for too much longer; if he stuck around for a while they might actually start to like his jokes.

"You've got a point," Wess gave in, his voice rough from the shot of liquor. "If even somebody as bad as you could wind up with a kid, there might be hope for my boy yet."

"Better tell him to get off his butt then," said Mike. "You don't want to fall behind. It won't be too many more years before Alec and I have to worry about great-grandkids."

"Oof," Alec grunted. "Don't even joke about that."

"I'm not saying it'll happen tomorrow," Mike consoled him. "But in another five, ten years? Who knows? I don't reckon Lucas'll give you any trouble, but that Claus is sure to come home with a surprise sooner or later."

Alec almost choked on his drink. He had a big laugh at the implication and said, "One thing I know for sure: that boy is full of surprises."

"Are you two about done playing matchmaker for one night?" Wess asked. "The way you idiots go on you'd think there was nothing to do for fun around here but gossip like a bunch of old hens."

"Say what you will about it, but at least it's kept Mike here from leering at Tessie for five minutes," Alec noted.

"Oh like you're any better," Mike snorted. "Don't think I haven't noticed you putting on the charm every time she walks by."

"I can't help it if I'm charming," Alec quipped. "That's one of the many benefits of age and experience."

Wess clicked his tongue. "You've aged like peculiar cheese, Alec. With every year you get a little more pungent."

"And you've aged like Jackie's drinks," Alec responded. "Half 'whine' and half piss and vinegar."

"Alright, you bums," Mike interrupted them. "Bring it in. I think it's time for a toast."

"What to?" Wess asked.

"To family?" Alec suggested.

"Works for me," Mike agreed.

"To family, then," said Wess.


	25. Whose Ideal Story Are We Living?

OJ knew he was getting close when he heard the sound of waves crashing onto the shore. The trees gave way to once again reveal the clear blue ocean and sandy beach where his friends were waiting.

Stepping out of the tree line, OJ gave a sharp whistle to get their attention. "Alright, guys. Status report," he demanded.

Duster stepped up first, his trousers rolled up to his knees and his shoes and socks discarded. "Well, the S.S. DCMC is D.O.A." He held up a half-eaten oar, the only part of their boat he'd managed to salvage from the sharks.

"And Magic's mushrooms are definitely NOT safe to eat," Baccio noted.

"Guys?" Magic called out from where he was lying on the sand. "My fingers turned into snakes again."

"You're fine, Magic! Sweat it out!" OJ ordered as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Shimmy? I could use some good news."

Shimmy Zmizz, at least, seemed to have some luck. He was accompanied by what OJ could only assume was a local. "I met this chill beach bum here who said he'd be happy to give us a ride home."

The large, red octopus smiled and tipped its hat to the quartet. "I'm overjoyed to help. You know, it's times like this that remind me why I love beachcombing so much; you never know what the tide might bring in. You say you're musicians?"

"You got that right," said Baccio. "If you can get us home in one piece we'll be sure you get tickets to our next gig."

"I've never been to a show before," the octopus responded. "That sounds like fun. I'm Ocho, by the way."

"Tonda gossa, Ocho," OJ answered him.

"What about you, OJ?" Duster asked. "Did you find anything further inland?"

"Not a trace, Lucky," OJ groused. "It's all forest as far as the eye can see."

"Oh, you won't find anything here," Ocho helpfully informed them. "Nobody lives on Tanetane Island. Well, nobody but me, but I'm just here for the beautiful beaches. The only other person I ever see around these parts is a grungy-looking guy with a cart full of all sorts of weird knickknacks."

"Hang on. Where's Kumatora?" Duster inquired.

OJ raised an eyebrow at the bassist. "Where do you think? She wasn't about to wait for the rest of us to get our act together."

Duster paled. "You let her go off on her own?"

"You say that like I could've stopped her," OJ pointed out. "I'd have gone with if I could keep up, but you know how she gets when she's after something."

"Do you at least know which way she headed?" Duster asked.

"Looked like some hills in the distance," OJ noted. "My instincts say there's nowhere else she'd go."

"What is she thinking?" Duster grumbled. "We get shipwrecked and the first thing she does is head off into the woods. I'm going after her."

"Hold up," OJ stopped him. "So your response to Kumatora wandering away from the group is to wander away from the group yourself?"

"Well we can't all go." Duster looked at Magic, who was holding a very deep conversation with his fingers. "Besides, I can handle this."

"Well I'm not about to stop you," OJ relented. "I gotta let a bird like you fly free."

"You're not going up to the bluffs, are you?" Ocho asked. "That place is dangerous! There are some super intense guys that hang out up there."

Duster gritted his teeth. "Then I'd better hurry."

Despite his haste, the thief was not nearly as quick on his feet as Kumatora was, and she had a big head start. The princess reached the bluffs well before he had a chance to catch up. Looking over the steep cliffs all around her, even Kumatora felt some small trepidation. This would be a pretty bad place to lose her footing. Still, a quick scan of the horizon confirmed that there were no signs of human habitation on the island. It was nothing but green woodland sprinkled with snow, cerulean skies and calm seas in every direction.

As she scoured the bluffs further, though, there was one thing that stuck out like a sore thumb: a strange, purple, entirely out-of-place monument. Perhaps this was finally the trace of the Magypsies she'd been searching for. Kumatora came to this island after learning it had been home to one of them. Lucas said her name was Mixolydia, and apparently she made exceptionally yummy pickles.

As she approached the summit, Kumatora slowed down. There were three of these bizarre things, and even dusted with snow as they were it was clear that this was no natural formation. They looked to be some kind of statues, each with an engraving on its chest.

"Barrier Man," she read aloud, circling the figures. "Barrier Gal. Barrier Dude."

The trio stood in formation around an empty spot on the ground. If they were supposed to be a barrier as their names suggested then they should be guarding something, but as far as Kumatora could tell they were the only things up here.

Kumatora began to draw closer, but a shiver ran up her spine and she pulled away instantly. The statues were radiating enough PSI to give Kumatora a brain freeze from merely getting too close. These things –whatever they might be – were alive, and they were watching her. If there was any doubt before it had all vanished now: they were made by a Magypsy.

"Hey!" Kumatora called out. "I know you can hear me! What's your deal?"

The trio did not answer. They didn't even flinch, but there was a slight shift in the psychic energy coming off them. They'd heard her, alright. That made their silence even more unsettling.

"Who made you?" Kumatora asked. "Was it the Magypsies?" Again, her questions garnered no response. "Answer me!"

The only sound was the wind howling over the bluffs. Kumatora pondered rushing at them to provoke a reaction, but that same shiver held her back. As things stood, these statues weren't looking for a fight, but she knew that if push came to shove any one of them would be a force to be reckoned with alone, nevermind all three. Besides, engaging in a fight wasn't likely to make them any more cooperative, and she needed answers.

"So 'Barrier Man', what are you doing here?" she asked. "You've got to be guarding something, right? Otherwise what's the point of a barrier?"

Their silence began sounding more and more like they were mocking her, but Kumatora kept her head together. Losing her cool now wouldn't do her any good, having finally found some proof of the Magypsies' existence.

Of course she knew all along that the Magypsies or someone like them must have existed. Psychics like herself, Lucas and Claus don't just appear out of thin air. That fact had been what started her down this whole journey in the first place: the only way to learn PSI is from a master. These strange creatures were something else altogether, though. They had actually been created by inhuman hands, imbued with life by otherworldly breath. These could not be the handiwork of any run-of-the-mill psychic. They were the last physical memorial to an ancient and forgotten race whose very existence had been purposefully scoured from all history.

It was the same for the Pigmask army, she realized. Like the Magypsies, almost every trace of them was wiped clean, both the things they had built and all memory of their existence. Yet the people brought to the islands by those Pigmasks remained. She, Lucas, and Claus remained. Now, Barrier Man, Barrier Gal and Barrier Dude remained as well.

"Is it because you're alive?" Kumatora wondered to herself. "Is that it? Can whatever did this not get rid of living things?" As soon as she asked, she knew it wasn't the case. The Magypsies were alive too, but their whole existence had been purged. Even if they'd died, that wouldn't be an issue. Lucas's "Dragon" had apparently brought both Claus and Hinawa back from the dead. Why not the Magypsies? The answer was clear: whatever changed the world wanted to get rid of the Magypsies every bit as much as it wanted to wipe out the Pigmasks.

"Why are you still here?" Kumatora asked the trio. "If some all-powerful Dragon wanted to get rid of all trace of the Magypsies, why leave you? Why leave a huge gap in my memories instead of filling that space with something?" None of it made sense. The way the world had been reset seemed so . . . haphazard. Could something powerful enough to remake the world and erase everyone's memories really make so many mistakes? Was all existence hinging on the whims of an absent-minded God?

Kumatora didn't have much use for faith. In her experience, even the craziest, most out-there events had entirely human explanations. She wouldn't pin everything that happened on some invisible Dragon when there was a simpler explanation. An all-seeing, all-knowing Dragon might not make mistakes, but a person would.

As cold as it was, Duster was still thankful for the snow: it made Kumatora's trail especially easy to follow. Having reached the summit, he found her standing before three purple statues with her back to him even as he called out to her.

"We found a way off the island," Duster announced as he got into speaking range. Still failing to get a rise out of her, Duster grew concerned. "Kumatora? What's wrong?"

"Forget it," she snapped.

Duster winced and backed off. This hadn't been the first time he'd stumbled upon her in a foul mood, and he'd learned that the best way to handle it was to give her space. Turning his gaze to the statues, he mouthed the engraved words to himself. This place was strange, but no more so than some of the other bizarre sights he'd witnessed in Kumatora's company.

He was about to turn away when he felt it: a deep thrum, not unlike a note his bass might play. The unexpected sound gave him pause, and he closed his eyes, unconvinced that he'd really heard it. After a moment he felt it again; it was low and distant, but powerful enough to rattle his bones. As slow and as deep as the sound was, there was something almost melodic to it.

"Is this your ideal world?" Kumatora asked suddenly.

Duster's concentration was shattered. "Wh-what?" he stammered.

"This world," Kumatora persisted. "If you could make it any way you wanted, would this be it?"

The princess asked very peculiar questions sometimes. "I don't know. It's pretty good, so I don't think I'd change anything."

"That's not what I asked," said Kumatora. "If you were creating the world, would _this_ be the world you'd make for yourself?"

Duster hesitated, but ultimately had to answer honestly. "Probably not." As much as he loved his friends, they weren't a substitute for a family.

Kumatora shook her head. "Me neither."

"What's going on?" Duster asked.

"Don't worry about it." Kumatora cracked her knuckles. She knew someone who could say this was his ideal world. Someone that conveniently remembered the way things used to be when nobody else did. That someone had let her family die so that his might live.

Kumatora had her answer. Now she needed to figure out what to do with it.


	26. Clearing the Air

Claus rolled a tiny, white pill between his thumb and index finger, eyeing it suspiciously. He'd been doing this little dance off and on since the day before: getting a glass of water, taking out one of his new pills, and then hemming and hawing over putting it in his mouth before finally returning it to the bottle and tossing away the water. This time was no exception.

Screwing the cap back onto the pill bottle, Claus berated himself for his indecision. This would be a lot easier if his mom and dad would sit him down and force him to take his medicine, but no. They said this had to be _his_ decision. He had to _want_ to get better. Of course he wanted to get better! That didn't mean he was going to swallow anything prescribed by that butcher, Dr. Andonuts, though.

The house was quiet, as it always was in the middle of the day. Mom and dad were out running errands together. Grandpa was dozing in front of the fire with Boney passed out at his feet. Lucas was the only other person both home and awake. He was sitting at the kitchen table with a book. It was a relief, actually; Claus hadn't had any time to himself since that night at the castle.

He began to pace around the room. Being cooped up like this was the worst for somebody like him, who wanted nothing more than to be outdoors. That day they spent fishing was nice, but too short. Fuel and his dad came along, and after some initial awkwardness it was like old times again.

He eyed the bottle of pills. The doctor said they'd make him feel better, but he had his doubts. Could a little pill really do that? If it did, would he want it to? Remembering everything that happened was painful, but it was also real. Without the pain, he feared those memories would lose their meaning, and he'd lose himself all over again. On the other hand, maybe the person he was now wasn't so great. He was angry, resentful and suspicious all the time, but to him it seemed justified. Maybe it wasn't. There was no way he could tell, and thinking about it made his brain hurt like it had been shoved through a sieve. That was his problem these days: he couldn't trust himself.

Normally he would turn to Lucas when he didn't know what to do, but his faith in his brother was shaken when he learned that Lucas had kept the truth of what happened to him a secret. Unfortunately he didn't have anyone else to turn to. "Hey, Lucas?"

Lucas put his book down and turned to look. "Yeah?"

Claus bit his tongue, dodging his brother's gaze. "Um . . . what'cha reading?"

"Overcoming Shyness," Lucas answered casually.

"Is it any good?"

Lucas's reticence to answer said it all. ". . . It's okay." If he was being honest, he'd been reading over the same page for the last twenty minutes or so without processing a word of it.

"Good." Claus nodded affirmatively before resuming his pacing. ". . . Good."

Sensing his brother's pent-up energy, Lucas spoke up. "You seem bored. Do you want to do something?"

"Like what?" Claus asked. "We can't go anywhere." He wasn't allowed to wander the countryside the way he liked anymore, alone with his thoughts and the fresh air. It was for his own good, his parents said. He understood that, right? Right?! Oh, he understood perfectly. That didn't mean he had to be happy about it.

"I'm sure we can come up with something," Lucas said with a gentle smile. "We could talk, or play a game, or, uh . . ." He looked around thoughtfully in hopes of finding something to keep his brother occupied.

As much as he'd changed after that night at the Castle, Claus was reminded that his brother had changed too. Lucas was so much more like his old self these days, rather than the brooding, isolated person he'd become. There was nothing like seeing somebody else happy to make Claus feel worse. "Have you learned anything new about the Dragon?" Claus asked provocatively, knowing it would get a rise.

"Not really," Lucas responded calmly. "I haven't given it much thought."

Claus was visibly irked, but resolved to keep pushing. "So you're finally taking my advice, huh? Good. It's about time you listened to your older brother." That was sure to get a reaction.

"Yep," Lucas answered placidly. "You were right all along."

"Okay, what gives?" Claus demanded with a scowl.

Lucas shrank back, not expecting such an outburst. "Huh?"

"Are you going to smile and nod at everything I say now?" Claus asked.

Shaking his head, Lucas sighed and tried to get his brother to relax. "No, I'm agreeing with you. That whole thing with the Dragon was only making me miserable."

"You're just saying that to make me feel better," Claus said accusingly, his arms folded in front of him.

"Can we not do this?" Lucas asked quietly. "I don't want to fight."

Claus ground his molars. "Why not? Do you think I can't handle it? Is one wrong word gonna push me over the edge?"

"Haven't we fought enough already?" Lucas asked. "Let's get along for once."

"Stop that!" Claus snarled. "It's bad enough that mom and dad treat me like a little kid, but now you're doing it too. I don't need a babysitter, dammit! I'm older than you!" The redhead hated the idea of needing his younger twin to come to his rescue yet again.

Lucas took a breath before answering. He was not going to let himself be goaded. "Tell me what's wrong."

"You know what's wrong," Claus hissed.

Lucas looked his brother in the eye and repeated: "Tell me."

"Forget it." He was stupid to even bring it up in the first place, Claus thought.

"I can't help if you won't let me know what's bothering you," Lucas reminded him. "But if that's how you want to do this, I could always try to guess. Tell me if I'm hot or cold, okay?"

"Don't get cute with me," Claus grumbled.

Apparently turnabout was not fair play as far as Claus was concerned. Lucas composed himself and tried again. "What makes you think we're treating you like a little kid?"

"Because I can't even go to the bathroom without somebody hovering over me!" Claus snapped. "What, do you think I'm gonna stab myself with a toothbrush?"

Lucas was about to tell his brother that they were simply worried about him, but thought better of it. "So you want us to give you more space?"

The blonde's new non-confrontational approach was both refreshing and grating, but Claus had to admit it was nice to be listened to. "Exactly! Don't you think things will go back to normal a lot faster if we can at least _act_ normal?"

Lucas again held his tongue before responding. "Do you think that would help?"

Claus was less amused by his brother's approach this time. "What gives, Lucas? Can't you answer a simple question?"

"I'm—" He cut himself off almost as soon as he began, then tried again. "Help me understand what you want."

"Okay, now I know you're jerking me around," Claus told him. "Where'd you get that line from?"

Lucas averted his gaze before sheepishly answering: "It's from a book I read." Specifically, it was a pseudo-psychological book on conflict resolution that Dr. Andonuts recommended. Lucas had been devouring such tomes since his brother had regained his memories.

"Well knock it off," Claus warned him. "I don't want to talk to a book. I want to talk to you."

"I'm trying," Lucas assured his brother. "Sorry if it's not working."

Claus was in a forgiving mood, now that he could tell his brother was speaking from the heart. "Whatever. Just don't be fake with me."

"I do want to hear what you're thinking, though," Lucas added. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but it might put my mind at ease."

"Look, it's real simple. I know I'm kinda screwed up, and I can't be sure that I might not try to kill myself again someday," Claus confessed. "But today isn't that day. Neither is tomorrow or the day after. Keeping me under lock and key twenty-four seven isn't helping. Treating me with kid gloves isn't helping either. I want things to go back to normal, to be able to walk around on my own and have a real argument with you instead of getting a bunch of half-baked mumbo-jumbo."

Lucas sighed, recognizing how reasonable the request was but needing to address something more important. "If it won't be today or tomorrow, then when?" he asked. "How would we know? Would you fill us in? Could you even tell when it might happen?"

"Well it's not gonna come out of the blue!" Claus exclaimed. "You get _why_ I did it, right? For the first time in three years I had control over myself again. Even if everything I'd been through and all the stuff I'd done weren't bad enough to want to die, I had no idea how long my freedom would last. I couldn't risk losing myself again. But I don't have to worry about that anymore." At least that was what he told himself. Deep down, it still scared the hell out of him.

"So you wouldn't have done it if you knew you wouldn't fall under Porky's control again?" Lucas asked.

"No," Claus told his brother. "Maybe. I don't know." Even having lived it, those few fleeting moments were a jumble in his head. All he was certain of back then was that he needed to die. "You wouldn't have done the same thing if you were in my shoes?"

It was an impossible question to answer without going through that himself. "Do you want me to tell you that you were right to do it?" Lucas asked. "Do you want me to say you were justified? Because I'm not going to do that."

"Like you'd even know," Claus snapped. "You didn't have to go through that."

"You're right. I didn't," Lucas admitted. "But I'm never going to tell you that it's okay to kill yourself. I can forgive you for doing it, and I can understand where you were coming from, but you'll never have my permission to do something so . . . selfish."

Claus bristled at his brother's accusation. "Selfish? I was trying to save you! If I lost control again I might have killed you. Or you might have been forced to kill me."

Lucas looked at Claus sadly. "Is that the real reason you did it?"

Unable to return his brother's gaze, Claus answered honestly. "It was one reason."

"I'm sorry," Lucas apologized suddenly. "I'm probably not doing you much good, am I? Here you are, already depressed, and I'm only making things worse. Some help I am." He gave a half-hearted chuckle before looking away.

Thinking back to his conversation with his father, Claus summoned up the nerve to keep going. "I shouldn't have used you to do it." Even if he believed he was right to do what he did – and he was questioning even that much – Claus truly regretted using his brother to make it happen.

Lucas winced at those words, the nerve still raw even months after the fact. "No. You shouldn't have," he agreed.

"You're still angry with me," Claus realized.

"I'm not angry," Lucas lied.

"Yes you are. Just admit it," Claus persisted. "You can't expect me to tell you how I feel if you won't give a little bit in return, you know."

"I'm trying really hard to not make things worse," Lucas insisted. "But there's nothing I can do if you keep looking for ways to make yourself miserable."

Claus couldn't help but laugh at the irony. "Didn't I tell you the same thing?"

Lucas gave an awkward grimace. "Something along those lines."

Shaking his head and smiling, Claus sat down in the chair next to Lucas. Something had changed in the air, and they both knew it. "Well, it was good advice. Too bad you suck at following it."

"You think you could show me how it's done?" Lucas suggested hopefully.

With an exaggerated sigh, Claus acquiesced. "Fine, if you insist. I've got to set a good example for my baby brother, after all."

Torn between laughter and disbelief, Lucas snorted. "Dork."

"I know you are, but what am I?" Claus asked as he ruffled Lucas's coiffed 'do.

Lucas batted his brother's hand away, but he was too late to save himself a few minutes of combing. "Y'know, for somebody who doesn't want to be treated like a little kid, you sure do act like one," he pointed out.

"Well if that's how you're going to treat me anyway, why shouldn't I?" Claus asked. "It'd be nice if you'd treat me like a little kid who gets to play outside though."

Lowering his voice, Lucas let his sibling in on a little secret. "You didn't hear it from me, but mom and dad might consider it if you start taking your medicine."

"What a drag," Claus whined. "Have you seen the side effects on this stuff?" He picked up the bottle again and toyed with it. "I mean, it says these can give you both diarrhea _and_ constipation. How's that work?"

"Poorly," Lucas guessed.

"Hyperactivity," Claus continued. "Mood swings. Dry mouth. Sensitivity to light. Hot flashes. Nausea. Skin rash. Erectile dys—oh; that's a bad one. If I had even half of these I'd have a real good reason to be depressed."

"So is that a 'no'?" Lucas wondered.

"I'm not saying no," Claus clarified, "but I wanted to warn you that these might make me a little loopy."

"I can put up with it," Lucas assured his brother. "But it's your call. I've got your back either way."

Lucas was annoyingly supportive sometimes, Claus decided. It made staying mad at him too much of a hassle. "You really think mom and dad might let me go out if I start taking these?" he asked.

"Well, maybe," Lucas hedged his bets. "Mom would probably throw a fit if either of us wandered too close to the river, but I don't think walking to Fuel's place would be out of the question."

It wasn't wandering the countryside like he wanted, but it was a start. "Thanks for talking to Fuel, by the way."

"I don't know what you mean," Lucas answered, feigning ignorance.

"C'mon, you and I both know Fuel wouldn't have done anything without a push," Claus said slyly. "He's dumb like that."

"Hey, you're the one that likes him," Lucas noted.

"Yeah, well, dumb can be cute," Claus admitted. "Seriously, though. Thanks."

Lucas nodded. "Any time. If you want, I can see if he's free to come over tomorrow. It might break up the boredom a little."

Claus was engrossed in reading the label on his pills. "Maybe not tomorrow," he said. "Let's see how hard these side effects hit me first."


	27. My Better Half

"Is that everything, Mr. Flint?" Nichol asked as he held a bag full of groceries up to the cowboy.

Thomas's Bazaar was the same as ever: cluttered with all sorts of goods and gear with various uses and questionable origins. The stock was especially bountiful this time of year when people needed warm clothes, firewood and hearty foodstuffs.

"Looks about right to me," Flint answered with a nod. "Now I just need that 'special item' your old man said he was going to fetch."

"A special item, huh?" Lisa asked, distracted from her conversation with Hinawa. "What are you up to now?"

"He won't say," Hinawa informed her. "My guess is he finally decided to get that saddle he's had his eye on."

"That'd be the day," Lisa sighed. "That thing takes up too much space. I keep telling Thomas he needs to get rid of it already, but he insists he's got a plan for it."

"What's that, my sweet?" Thomas asked as he popped his head out of the back room. "My ears were burning."

"If it is a saddle, I'm not going to be the one to carry it home," Hinawa said with a chuckle, only to have her laughter cut off by a gasp once Thomas stepped out carrying Flint's "special item".

"You wouldn't believe what I went through to get these," Thomas let Flint know as he held up a bouquet of sunflowers. "Who would've thought those Saturn guys would have such green thumbs when they don't even have hands?"

"Sunflowers? In the dead of winter?" Lisa asked, clearly taken aback.

"Well well, you pulled it off after all," Flint smirked. "I'll never doubt you again."

"You know how to motivate a fella," Thomas reminded him. "First dibs on this spring's wool, right Flint? I think I came out ahead on that deal. You might even say I 'fleeced' you." He let out a jovial guffaw as he went to hand Hinawa her gift.

Hinawa was speechless, just as Flint suspected she would be. He couldn't help but grin at her astonished expression. "Thanks, Thomas," he said. "Are you ready to go, dear?"

The shock finally faded from Hinawa's face and she began to smile gleefully. "I'm all set if you are," she told him while admiring the flowers. They were quite large, as sunflowers tend to be, but not more than she could carry. The golden petals practically glowed even in the soft light of the store.

"After you then," Flint said as he motioned toward the door, sparing one last moment to tip has hat to Thomas and his family. "Good seeing you."

The pair bundled up as soon as they stepped outside; even though it was a clear, sunny day it was still freezing out. Hinawa couldn't take her eyes off the flowers; they were common enough at the height of summer, but she'd never imagined seeing them at this time of year. "They're gorgeous," she commented, almost without realizing she'd said so out loud.

"Glad you like 'em," Flint replied with a kind smile. He fumbled the groceries to his other hand so he could wrap an arm around his wife's shoulder as the pair moseyed toward home.

"What's the occasion?" Hinawa asked. Her birthday was still months away, and their anniversary was even longer.

"No occasion," Flint answered. "Can't a man do a little something for the lady he loves without a reason?"

"Love is a good enough reason if you ask me," Hinawa said before she leaned in to give him a kiss on his unshaven cheek. "Gosh, I sure hope Lisa wasn't too jealous. I feel a little sorry for Thomas."

"Well then, he'd better step up his game," Flint joked. "Besides, it's only a few flowers. She didn't even see the rest of it."

Hinawa cocked her head to the side. "The rest?"

"Two tickets to a show," Flint told her with a sly grin. "Dinner, music, maybe even a little dancing if you're up for it."

"Dancing?" Hinawa could hardly believe her ears. "Flint you haven't taken me dancing in a good ten years. I almost thought you forgot how."

"How hard could it be?" he asked. "You move your feet and don't step on anybody's toes."

"First flowers, and now a night out?" Hinawa asked. "I'd almost think you were trying real hard to apologize for something."

"I guess you could say that," Flint confessed. "I got to thinking that I don't appreciating you as much as you deserve. It's real easy to take someone for granted when you ought to thank your lucky starts for them each and every day."

Now it made sense. "Is this about what Claus said?" Hinawa asked.

"It might be," Flint admitted. Outside of his worst nightmares, Flint never gave more than a passing thought to what his life would be like without Hinawa – not until Claus told them what happened.

"Well whatever the reason, it's still very sweet of you," Hinawa assured her husband.

"I'd hate to think I left something unsaid, you know?" Flint asked. "It wouldn't sit right, missing a chance to tell you how much you mean to me. I don't reckon I could do this without you."

Hinawa gave her husband a tender look before responding. "You may not always say it, but you do show it," she told him. "Every time you do the dishes without me asking, or stoke the fire when I'm too busy, or get the boys to do their chores . . . I couldn't do this without you, either."

Flint smiled bashfully, remaining silent as he often did when he wasn't sure of what to say. He wished he could be more expressive like his wife, but it didn't come easily to him — not the way taking action did. Ever since he was a youngster, Flint earned a reputation as the first one to rush into danger. If there was a problem you could be sure he'd do his darndest to solve it. Those qualities in him often butted heads when a problem could only be solved by words, though.

"Do you think the boys will be alright with us going to a show?" Hinawa worried. "I'm sure my dad won't mind spending an evening with them, but Claus has been so fragile lately."

"We'll clear it with them first," Flint assured her. "Boys that age do need their space, though. Either way, Claus has been fair with us about this business, so let's be fair right back and see what he thinks."

"Leave it to you to stay levelheaded about everything," Hinawa chuckled. "I'd be a mess if you weren't here to keep my head on straight."

"Shoot, I should be the one saying that," Flint told her. "When Duster showed up on our doorstep at the crack of dawn I just about needed to change my britches."

Hinawa recalled things a bit differently. "The way I remember it you moved like a cat whose tail got stepped on," she said. "You had me up and out the door in no time."

"Sure, but what happened once we got there?" he reminded her. "All I could do was sit in the corner. I didn't have a clue what to say."

"Well, you knew what to say to Claus to get him to open up," Hinawa countered. "As much as you like to think you're no good with words, you're there for the boys when it counts."

Flint wondered if that was true. From Lucas's description, he'd done nothing but look for Claus in the years after the boy's disappearance when he should have paid more mind to the son he still had. It sounded like something he'd do, too: running out every day to search high and low would be his go-to if someone went missing, while talking openly about something so personal and painful, even to his own son, intimidated the man. "I'm not so sure of that."

"Well I am," Hinawa told him definitively. She, too, worried that she may have left something unsaid for too long. "I have complete faith in you, Flint. You might not think so, but you're strong enough to do this without me, if you believe in yourself. I'm sure you'd be more confident talking to the boys if you tried it more often."

Flint knew she was right, but that didn't put his mind at ease. He could stare down any monster the Nowhere Islands had to offer, yet his own sons left him quaking in his boots.

"Do you remember when they were babies and you were too petrified to even hold them?" Hinawa recalled with a soft laugh. "You'd think I asked you to pick a rattlesnake up by the tongue."

"They were such little things, you could hardly blame me," he said. "Loud, too, if you didn't treat 'em just right."

"You got the hang of it, though," Hinawa reassured him. "It took some time, but I knew I could count on you to help feed and change and bathe them. We had a nice little system going there, didn't we?"

Those were good times. "That we did," he acknowledged.

"And then as soon as Claus started walking we had to make a few adjustments," she pointed out.

Flint smirked. "I swear, if you took your eye off that boy for a second he could get halfway to Mt. Oriander."

"Think of this as another adjustment," Hinawa suggested. "They keep on getting older, so we both need to pick up a whole new set of skills to match. And just like back then, the only way to figure out what we're doing is to get in there and do it."

"What I wouldn't give to go back to midnight feedings," Flint lamented. "Shoot, at this point I'd settle for explaining the rams and the ewes all over again."

"Well get ready for another round of that," Hinawa hinted. "I was planning on talking to those two about how they should treat girls sooner rather than later, but I think you might need to weigh in on how Claus should treat boys."

Flint grew paler before his wife's eyes. "Don't you dare put that on me."

"Now now, it can't be any harder than that conversation you two had the other day, and you managed to get through that intact." Hinawa patted her husband on the back. "Besides, I'd hardly be in a position to answer whatever questions he might have."

"You'd do better than me," Flint told her. "What would I know about courting a fella?"

Hinawa sighed. "I'll meet you half way and we'll do it together, then."

It was the best offer he was likely to get and Flint knew it. "Fine," he agreed. "But not until he's feeling better, right?"

"Not until he's feeling better," Hinawa confirmed. "A talk like that might be too much for the poor thing to put up with right now." While she was referring to Claus, the same sentiment applied to her husband as well.

The pair approached their tiny house, with its picket fence and smoke billowing from the chimney. As much work as it took to build, that was nothing compared to all the blood, sweat and tears Flint and Hinawa poured into this place to turn it into a home. They both bore the scars to prove it.

Flint hid his face beneath his hat. He still had one more thing to tell his wife before they went inside. "You've always been my better half," he mumbled.

Hinawa smiled at him, catching a glimpse of his expression beneath the brim of his hat. "And you're mine," she said gently. "But even if I'm not around, you're still a father. I expect you to do your best for the boys no matter what. Is that clear?"

Flint adored it when Hinawa laid down the law with him. "Yes, ma'am."

"I hope so," she said. Their work on this home was far from over, but they were happy to see it through together.


	28. The Princess and the Thief

No one had seen Kumatora all day and Duster was getting worried. His bandmates found her room empty when they went to wake her up, and nobody from the inn could recall seeing her leave. Thomas and his family at the bazaar said she hadn't stopped by. Even Wess was clueless as to her whereabouts, though hearing she was gone almost set off another tiff between the father and son. The princess had been tight-lipped ever since Tanetane Island, so if she was planning on some new expedition she hadn't spilled the beans to anyone.

Partially on a hunch, and partially out of desperation, Duster decided to revisit the site of their first stop upon returning to Tazmily Village: Osohe Castle. At first the drab, dusty keep seemed like a dead-end. It was as empty as a haunted ruin can get, but when he drew nearer to the banquet hall the telltale sound of someone noodling away at the piano hinted at some trace of life.

Stepping inside, Duster found the expected smattering of specters – fewer than when the party was in full swing but enough that the room couldn't be called dead – and there, sitting at the piano with a glass of wine in her hand, was Kumatora.

"Hey! It's Duster!" she exclaimed upon seeing him enter, refusing to take a break from her sloppy rendition of Chopsticks. "Or is it Lucky? I can never tell you two apart."

"Lucky's got better hair," Duster explained as he hobbled over toward Kumatora.

"Bad breath, too," Kumatora pointed out. "Well then, welcome to my castle, Duster. Grab a drink, have some hors d'oeuvres, and don't forget to tip your waiter because the party never ends."

Duster leaned his weight against the rickety old piano and smirked. "Your castle, huh?"

"You know it," said Kumatora. "I'm the princess of Osohe Castle, so everything you see is mine. Try not to leave scuff marks."

Looking around the room, Duster shook his head and said: "Well princess, I think your cleaning crew missed a spot."

"Tell me about it," she grumbled. "Good help is so hard to find, especially when they're undead. These ghosts are pleased as punch to haunt my paintings and carpets and suits of armor, but would it kill them to possess a FREAKIN' MOP ONCE IN A WHILE?!"

"Y'know, the inn is pretty clean," Duster pointed out. "Good company, strong drinks . . . food that's not rotten. Maybe we should hang out there instead."

"Am I the princess of the Yado Inn?" Kumatora asked indignantly. "No? Didn't think so."

Sighing deeply, Duster girded himself for whatever Kumatora might have to say. "Was there something on your mind?"

"Of course not," she scoffed before taking a swig of her wine and wiping her mouth on her sleeve. "What could possibly be on my mind? I'm the princess, so I don't need to worry about a thing. All I need to do is sit back, kick up my heels and let everyone else tend to my needs. Who has to think for themselves when they've got all this at their beck and call?" She gestured toward the ruins around them.

Duster looked down at his dirty, calloused hands. "What happened on that island?" he wondered. She'd been acting strange ever since he found her on that hilltop, but so far she refused to explain a thing.

"I got my answer," Kumatora told him, her voice low and her jaw set. She pounded the keys extra hard to drive her statement home.

"Which is . . . ?"

Knowing that she'd have to tell someone sooner or later, Kumatora sighed and hung her head. "You know that kid? Lucas?"

"What about him?" Duster asked.

"He's the one behind it." Her words hung in the air, their heavy implication muffling all other sound.

With a shake of his head, Duster asked the princess for some explanation. "I don't understand."

"This 'Dragon' of his isn't a thing. It was Lucas all along." Kumatora let her words sink in. Even though it had been days since their trip to Tanetane Island, she was still trying to process this herself. "Whatever changed the world, whatever wiped out the Magypsies and made everybody forget about them, it was his doing. I'm sure of it."

"How do you know?" Duster asked, trying to mask his disbelief. He couldn't claim to be close to Lucas, but the thief knew the boy well enough to say he'd never do the kind of thing Kumatora was accusing him of.

"Because this world is exactly what he'd want it to be," she continued. "Because he's the only one who remembers. That kid might not look it, but he's a powerful psychic; maybe powerful enough to change the world and erase everyone's memories. But he's still a kid, and that means he'd make mistakes and overlook the sort of clues we've seen."

Duster remained skeptical; her evidence was shaky at best, but he did care about Kumatora and what she was going through. "So why not confront him?"

"How? Go right up and punch him in the face?" Kumatora held back a laugh; she'd seriously considered taking that approach, but upon reflection realized it might not be the best of plans for a lot of reasons. "If he can do all this, then I'd hate to see what else he'd be capable of. I might as well punch a mountain for all the good it'll do me."

"Maybe try talking to him first," Duster suggested. "But even if you do decide punching is the way to go, I've seen you attack plenty of things every bit as dangerous as Lucas. Remember the Sphinx of Stinks?"

"Yeah, I remember alright," Kumatora answered with a shudder. That trip through Death Desert was a disaster. "Either riddles were a lot easier in ancient times or that cat wasn't too good at his job."

"Half of them weren't even riddles so much as crude limericks," Duster recalled with a chuckle.

Kumatora shrugged. "I guess that's what you get when your only company is a bunch of dung beetles."

"So his riddles stank. He was pretty fearsome when it came down to it, though." Duster remembered it as one of the hairiest fights they'd been in, and the second smelliest. "You still laid him out flat just the same. So what's the real reason you don't want to talk to Lucas about this?"

"The thing is . . . I'm not even mad at him," Kumatora acknowledged sullenly. "Look around. Even if this world did spring from his head, it's pretty great. People are happy. He's got his family. And even though I don't, that doesn't bother me. I can't exactly miss somebody I never knew." She took another sip of her wine and leaned forward over the keyboard, giving up on her musical stylings completely. "This bites. I went on this whole journey to find answers and now I have them. It wasn't much of an ending, but there's nowhere left to go. I guess it's time to pick myself up and move on with my life."

"You don't sound too happy about it," Duster noted.

Kumatora looked up at him with a scowl. "What's there to be happy about?" she snapped. "Whether I'm stuck as a princess or stuck living out my days in a world dreamed up by that kid, I'm not in control of things."

"True. But how is that different from the way the world's always worked?" Duster asked. Finding his question met only with silence, he kept going. "You can't control everything, but you can take charge of yourself."

"I guess you're right," she conceded. "I can't shake the feeling it's all fake though. I hate having things handed to me. If I'd found out about the Magypsies on my own I might be satisfied, but bumping into Lucas and being told all about them was so . . . anticlimactic. The same goes for this world. I don't want to be given happiness. I want to work for it. I want to know that whatever I've got is my own doing and I earned it with my own two hands. Even if I wind up miserable, it'll be _my_ misery."

Duster smiled, finally realizing what he found so captivating about Kumatora. She had the same spark in her that he did, the same drive that led him away from home and into the big, wide world. She lived her life the way he longed to. "I know exactly what you mean," he told her. "There's something about grabbing hold of destiny that's both exciting and terrifying. I never felt as alive as I did the first time I played for a crowd. I made my share of mistakes, sure, but at the end of the night I was satisfied. For good or bad, everything I did was mine."

"So what, you think I should join the band?" Kumatora snorted, pounding the piano once more to emphasize her nonexistent musical skills.

"I think you should do what you want with your life," Duster told her. "No more of this 'princess' stuff if you don't want it. And if you're not happy with the world you're given, then do what you can to change it."

Kumatora rested her chin on her hand while her elbow dug into the keyboard. "I can't exactly stop at the bazaar and pick up a set of parents, y'know," she scoffed.

"If you could, I'd have done so a while ago," Duster laughed. "Strange thing about my dad, though. Any time I see him he asks about you. He seems to think of you like the daughter he never had."

"Don't you try and mix me up in that family tree of yours," Kumatora grimaced.

Another laugh slipped through Duster's defenses. "I wouldn't dream of it," he assured her, shaking his head. "All I'm saying is that a family might not get handed to you, but you can still have one. With some time, elbow grease and a little luck I bet you'll have a family you can be real proud of someday, one that means more to you because of the hard work you put in."

Crooking her neck to look at him, Kumatora wrinkled her nose in Duster's direction. "If by 'having a family' you mean getting knocked up, you can forget it. And if this is your way of coming on to me, then I gotta say it stinks worse than your socks."

"There's more to family than that," Duster pointed out. "You weren't related to those Magypsies, after all, but you still say they were your family. I know I think of the guys in the band like my brothers, even though we all come from different mothers. Sweat runs deeper than blood, and it's the people you can count on through thick and thin that are your real family."

Kumatora pondered his words for a few seconds before responding. "Were those song lyrics?" she asked.

Duster mulled over the question before answering. "I don't think so."

"Good, because that was the cheesiest thing you've ever said," she snickered. "Write it down."

A smirk formed on Duster's lips and he shrugged. "We don't have a vocalist."

"Ask Ocho if he can sing," Kumatora suggested. "He'd look great in pink."

"I'm not sure we can find a jacket in his size," Duster lamented. "Or with that many sleeves."

"We'd better find a tailor then," Kumatora insisted.

Duster caught another whiff of the determination he found so enchanting in Kumatora. "Is that our next daring adventure?"

"Doesn't have quite the same weight as the last one, does it?" she asked. "Nah. I think we've run out of adventures. No more crossing Death Desert to find the lost Stone of Insight."

With a sigh, Duster was forced to agree. "No more climbing up the frozen peak of Snowcap Mountain to trick a blind yeti shaman into revealing his visions."

"No more gambling with advice sparrows for secret tea recipes."

"Wait, what?" Duster asked. "When did that happen?"

"Oh, right. That was before we met," Kumatora recalled. "You'd think not having hands would make it hard for sparrows to play cards, but you'd be wrong."

Duster was sorry he'd missed out on that adventure. "Sounds like a good time."

"It was," Kumatora confirmed. There was sadness in the way she said it, a twinge of regret that those days were behind her.

"It doesn't have to end, Kumatora," Duster told her. "If you want to, you can keep exploring every nook and cranny the Nowhere Islands have to offer. I can't speak for the guys, but I'll stick with you the whole way."

"I thought you were done being a thief," the princess reminded him. "You said you wanted to be a bassist."

"There are a lot of things I want." His goofy smile made his meaning blindingly obvious to the ever shrewd Kumatora.

"Heading into unexplored dungeons and facing mortal danger, huh?" she asked. "Is that your idea of a date?"

"Is it yours?"

Hesitant to answer, Kumatora held her tongue. She didn't have much experience with dating, but she knew what she liked to do for fun. ". . . You know me too well."

"So is that a yes?" Duster asked.

Feeling flirty, Kumatora leaned in closer to the thief until their noses were nearly touching and their lips were mere inches apart. The pair stared into one another's half-lidded eyes, neither of them flinching away but neither one drawing nearer. For an all too brief moment the world froze around them, and then Kumatora spoke: "Your breath stinks." With that she stood up from the piano and strolled over to the door. Before she reached it though, she turned to look at Duster again with a wry smile. "You'd better get some mouthwash." She gave him a wink and headed out.


	29. Matchmaker

The jangling of the bell over the front door woke Nichol up from his mid-day nap. He yawned and stretched, remaining on his stool behind the counter as he glanced up from his stupor toward the door and the first customer of his shift.

"Hey, Nichol!" Fuel greeted him with a chipper smile. He was wearing his ratty hoodie as usual and carrying a whole pile of firewood.

Still groggy, Nichol wiped a trail of drool off his cheek. "What're you doing here?" he asked.

Fuel looked down at the load in his arms like it was obvious. "Delivery," he explained. "Where do you want these?"

The first living soul he'd seen since breakfast and it wasn't even someone who wanted to shop. Nichol waved toward a mound of firewood off to one side of the store. "Over there."

"Gotcha," Fuel said with a nod.

So much for any chance of excitement, Nichol thought. Why did he always get stuck behind the counter on slow days? His dad said something about acquiring some special merchandise. His mom was out visiting the neighbors. For all his complaining about never getting to see him, his grandfather wouldn't even keep him company at the shop. As for Richie, she was probably off somewhere having fun with Angie. "Oh," he said aloud, his brain having finally rebooted after his nap. "Hey, Fuel?"

"Yeah?" Fuel asked without looking up from stacking kindling.

"You gotta do something for me," Nichol told him. "Well actually, you gotta do something for Richie, but she's been bugging me to make you to do it, so it's kinda like a favor to me. I seriously don't know how much more nagging I can take."

"Well what is it?" Fuel asked over his shoulder.

Nichol was not comfortable asking this of his friend, but his sister was insistent. "Can you ask Angie out?"

Fuel fumbled with his delivery, knocking a few of the split logs off the stack before he could grab on and keep the rest from slipping off. "What?!"

"I know, I know, it's sorta weird that I'm the one who's telling you to do this," Nichol sympathized. "I'm not crazy about it either."

"That's not the weirdest part about this!" Fuel balked, standing up straight. "I can't ask Angie out!"

Nichol squinted at his friend. "Why not?"

"Because she doesn't like me that way," Fuel answered. "You guys give me a hard time and everything, but she's not _really_ into me."

"Sure she is," Nichol told him. "Definitely. I think. Does it matter?"

"Of course it matters, dingus," Fuel said as he dropped the rest of his delivery on the floor and walked over to the counter in a huff. "You're just trying to make me look like an idiot in front of Angie."

"Dude, c'mon. I wouldn't go that far," Nichol assured him. "Angie digs you."

Fuel couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Did . . . did she say that?"

"I dunno. She could've," Nichol answered weakly. "Look, she told Richie that she's not into you, but Richie told me to tell you that that's not the case. Then Angie found out and told me to tell Richie to butt out, but Richie told me to tell her not to be so shy. So Angie told Richie to tell me to tell you not to listen to any of this stuff, but Richie says if it wasn't true then Angie would tell you herself and I can't keep playing the messenger boy like this, Fuel. It's too exhausting."

Fuel knitted his brow in confusion. "Huh?"

"Girls, right?" Nichol commiserated. "Look, it's real easy. Angie'd never admit it, but Richie says she's got a thing for you. I believe Richie because girls know about that stuff."

Leaning against the counter, Fuel dismissed Nichol's line of reasoning. "Pfft. Yeah right. _You_ might not go that far to embarrass me, but your sister sure would. You almost had me going there for a second."

Fuel was pretty dense sometimes, and Nichol knew that even spelling things out wouldn't always work. "I don't think she's trying to put one over on you," he said.

"Uh-huh, whatever you say," Fuel responded sarcastically. "Tell you what: I'll believe you as soon as Angie asks _me_ out." That was sure to put a stop to this nonsense.

"Like that'll ever happen," Nichol snorted. "C'mon, everyone knows the guy's supposed to ask the girl out, not the other way around. You're not a pansy, are you?"

"I'm not a pansy," Fuel responded harshly. "But I'm not dumb enough to fall for this either. It'd be one thing if she really did like me, but there's no way." He laughed at the very thought of it. Half the time he wondered if she could even stand his company; she never missed a chance to badger him to wipe his feet or sit up straight or mind his manners when he was at her place.

"So if she really did like you, then you'd ask her out?" Nichol wondered.

Fuel scratched his head at the question. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, that's what you're supposed to do, right?"

"So you _do_ like her," Nichol concluded with a satisfied nod and a smirk.

"What? No! I didn't say that!" Fuel sputtered at the accusation.

Nichol leaned forward. "You just said you'd ask her out, man."

"Well sure, but not because I like her or anything," Fuel told him while trying to reestablish his cool composure.

"So you _don't_ like her?" Nichol asked.

"I didn't say that either," Fuel snapped defensively. "Stop putting words in my mouth. Angie's great."

"Uh-huh," Nichol nodded. He was not about to let Fuel dodge that question so easily. "So if she did ask you out, would you say yes?"

Fuel stared off into space without responding. There was a time when he could have come up with an answer easily, but then Claus had to go and ask him on a date and it tossed everything he thought he knew on its head. He wasn't so sure what he would do anymore. "Um . . ."

"I'll take that as a 'no' then," Nichol concluded. He hadn't counted on that to be Fuel's response, but it was informative.

Fuel snapped back to attention. "I. Didn't. Say. That." He was getting sick of having to repeat himself.

"You also didn't _not_ say it," Nichol asserted.

"Look, it doesn't matter either way," Fuel pouted. "Angie doesn't like me and that's that."

"You're worse than Claus," Nichol snorted.

Fuel blinked at the comparison. "Huh?"

"At least he answers," Nichol explained casually. "Sure, he lies and says he doesn't have a crush on anyone, but it's an answer."

Tensing up at the mention of Claus's crush, Fuel asked: "You're still going on about that?"

"You bet," Nichol nodded emphatically. "The problem is he's been MIA ever since he and Lucas fell in the river. It makes it hard to figure out who he's got his eye one. You've seen him more than I have, though. Any ideas?"

Fuel relaxed slightly, relieved that the Tazmily rumor mill had kept mum on this gossip so far. ". . . No. Sorry."

"I figured as much," Nichol said. "Not that it matters. He's too much of a wuss to ever ask someone out anyway."

"He's not a wuss!" Fuel growled. Even he wasn't sure where that outburst came from.

Caught off guard, Nichol relented. "Okay, whatever. I guess it could happen. I mean he's not as hopeless as Lucas, right?"

"And you're the town Casanova?" Fuel asked with one raised eyebrow.

Nichol defiantly folded his arms in front of himself. "Hey, I could get a girl if I wanted."

"Psh," Fuel scoffed. "I'll believe it when I see it."

"You're no better," Nichol noted. "But hey, if you're right and Claus isn't such a chicken, he might ask Angie out before you do. I bet you'd feel pretty dumb then, huh?"

Fuel shook his head. "No way."

"Why not?" Nichol asked. "We know he likes someone. If that someone is Angie then he could snatch her up before you make a move. That wouldn't bother you?"

"Even if he did ask her out – which he won't – Angie doesn't like him that way," Fuel pointed out. "Besides, those two would make the worst couple ever." Even he couldn't ignore the air of jealousy in his words.

"Weren't you just saying that you'd go out with Angie if she liked you?" Nichol recalled. "If Claus likes her then she might think the same way you do."

"Why are we even talking about this?" Fuel demanded. "He DOESN'T like her."

"Because you can't even answer one simple question," Nichol told him. "Do you like Angie? Yes or no?"

"I dunno!" Fuel confessed. "This stuff is dumb."

"I know it is, but figure it out," Nichol pleaded with him. "If you don't then I'll never get my sister off my back."

"Sucks to be you, then," Fuel answered snidely.

Nichol grunted in exasperation. This was almost enough to make him pine for a boring, lonesome shift behind the counter. "Screw it. I'm just gonna say you don't like her and that'll be the end of it."

Fuel tensed up again. "Don't tell her that!"

"Well I'm not gonna say you don't know what you want," Nichol rebuffed him. "How did I even wind up in the middle of this? Getting you some action isn't my job! Stupid Richie and her dumb schemes . . ."

"Girls are nuts and your sister's the worst of the bunch," Fuel huffed.

"I know she is. You don't have to tell me." Nichol regretted bringing the topic up in the first place. As far as he was concerned, Angie could do her own dirty work from then on. "Hey, do you think you could tell her to lay off?"

Fuel sneered at that. "Tell her yourself. I'm staying out of this mess of yours."

"This is your mess, man. Somehow I got stuck neck-deep in it though," Nichol told him, "and the only way any of us are getting out is with your help."

"Well what do you want me to do about it?" Fuel asked. "I can't ask her out and look like a big, dumb idiot when she says no. I don't wanna hurt her feelings by saying I'm not into her. What am I supposed to do?"

Nichol shrugged. "I dunno. Be honest, I guess?"

Fuel bristled. "I want to be, but apparently 'I don't know' isn't good enough."

Fed up with his friend's indecision, Nichol rolled his eyes. "Then man up and figure it out. I'm not gonna hold your hand for you."

"Some help you are."

"Fine then, don't listen to me," Nichol shrugged. "Go ask Claus what you should do since you think he's such a ladies' man."

Fuel winced. "I can't ask Claus about this!"

"Why not?" Nichol questioned him. "Afraid he might scoop Angie out from under you?"

Fuel had plenty of reasons not to talk to Claus about Angie, but that wasn't one of them. "Forget it. I gotta get back home anyway. I don't have time for this."

"Wait, don't go!" Nichol pleaded. "Did you need to get anything while you're here? We've got food and stuff. Fuel? Fuel! Come back! Don't leave me all alone!"

The jangling of the bell marked the door shutting behind Fuel. Maybe Nichol would think twice next time before he drove away his only companionship with his inane questions. It was a vain hope, Fuel knew, since this was hardly the first time Nichol's pestering nature left him all alone to mind the store.

Despite his rush to leave, Fuel was in no great hurry to get home. Normally he might come up with an excuse to visit Angie, but that was clearly out of the question now. At this rate he wasn't going to have anyone left to hang out with before spring arrived.

Angie didn't like him; he was sure of it. This was some dumb prank by Richie or Nichol and he wasn't going to play into their hands. Of course if she did like him he didn't have a clue what to do about it. The closest he'd ever come to this situation was being on the receiving end, and after he'd screwed that up he was feeling especially gun-shy. He didn't have anyone to turn to for advice; his dad wasn't exactly a wellspring of insight. Sure, he was happy to tell Fuel what to do in pretty much every other aspect of his life, but he wouldn't touch this topic with a two-by-four.

For someone whose decisions rarely got more complicated than picking which shirt to wear (and there weren't many to choose from), Fuel felt that figuring out what to do about Angie was like being thrown into the deep end without knowing how to swim. He couldn't even decide what he wanted, much less what to do about it.

Sure, Angie was a lot of fun to be around, but did he _like_ her? He didn't know. What was that supposed to feel like? She didn't seem so different in his eyes from Nichol or Richie or Nana or Lucas or anybody else he knew. He did spend a lot of time with her, but he spent even more time with Claus and Lucas, so that didn't mean much.

When did things get so complicated? First Claus liked him, and now Angie – or so Nichol claimed. Whatever happened, he didn't want a repeat of last time. He had a reputation to live up to, after all, and screwing things up with Angie would not help. If he was going to let her down then he wanted to do it gently.

Wait. Let her down? The thought had slipped out so readily he nearly missed it. Some part of him had already decided he was going to let her down. He wanted to struggle against the conclusion, to say that he might like her if he tried. Again, he caught himself. "If he tried." That's not the sort of thing he'd think if he liked her that way; he was sure of that much at least.

For all his protesting to Nichol, all his hemming and hawing, even he didn't believe that he liked Angie. It should have been obvious to him when he didn't jump at the invitation to ask her out, that his heart didn't race when Nichol said that Angie liked him. The stray possibility that she might like him had crossed his mind on occasion, but never for more than a few moments and even when it had he was hardly enamored with the idea. His friends had ragged on him about Angie plenty of times, but he dismissed it as simply that: Claus and Nichol poking fun at him. It wasn't anything to be taken seriously until now.

Fortunately, Fuel had a go-to plan for situations like this: ignore it and eventually the problem would go away on its own. Sooner or later Angie would get over this crush – assuming it was even real – and things would go back to normal. No one would get their feelings hurt, he wouldn't have to go through an awkward conversation, and he could duck under all the melodrama that punctuated his otherwise simple small town life. Satisfied with his solution, Fuel kicked up his feet and headed back home.


	30. Bitter Medicine

Claus sat bolt upright in bed, his breathing quick and shallow. Fumbling around in the darkness to try and steady himself, he inadvertently grabbing Lucas by the arm before recoiling. The blonde stirred, muttering something incomprehensible before rolling away from his twin. Recognition dawned on Claus's sleep-addled mind, but he could still feel his heart ready to pound out of his chest. It was only a dream.

The redhead leaned forward and shut his eyes again. He inhaled and held his breath in for a few seconds before letting it out again slowly. Lucas's restlessness, bordering on waking up, unnerved him. This was one of the rare times when Claus was thankful his brother was such a heavy sleeper. He hated having to split a bed with his brother while their grandfather was in town; it made moments like this one even worse.

After a minute or so, Claus swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up on unsteady legs. The wood floor was freezing cold on his bare feet as he quietly shuffled his way toward the bathroom. Splashing some cold water on his face might do him some good, he thought, or at the very least the trip would afford him a place to be alone during his breakdown.

As he approached the bathroom he saw lamplight flickering from beneath the door, and then came the sound of running water. He was about to turn and head back to bed when the door swung open to reveal Alec, standing there in his threadbare bathrobe and fuzzy pink slippers.

"Claus?" he asked in a haggard voice. "What're you doing up?"

"Um . . . couldn't sleep," Claus answered, squinting in the dull light.

"Well if you need the bathroom it's all yours," Alec told him.

"Thanks," Claus grunted.

Leaving the boy to his own devices, Alec turned toward the main room. He carried a few pill bottles with him and needed a glass of water to seal the deal. His steps were more stilted than normal thanks to the ache in his lower back; as grateful as he was for the bed to sleep in, it didn't have quite the same lumbar support he was accustomed to.

After fetching his water Alec sat down at the table and spread his medication out in front of him. The iridescent lamplight made it hard to sort through them all, especially with his admittedly poor vision. He had to pull his spectacles away from his face a bit to help him read over all the labels.

Before he was done Claus emerged into the living room. With slumped shoulders and bags under his eyes, the redhead let out a big yawn and scratched his stomach through his pajama top. "What'cha doing?" he asked.

"Enjoying the benefits of old age," Alec joked as he picked up a bottle and squinted to read it.

"You got a lot of these," Claus noted as he walked over and sat down. "What do they all do?"

"Well, this one's for my back," Alec began. "This one over here is for my arthritis. These two make sure my ticker doesn't stop ticking. And all of those other ones keep your mother from yelling at me to take my pills."

"Yeesh. And I thought I had to take a lot," Claus said with a slight laugh.

"You get used to it," Alec assured him. "They're not fun, but it's a small price to pay given the alternative. How are those pills of yours treating you by the way?"

"Good, actually," Claus answered with an emphatic nod. "It was rough at the start, but the side effects are going away and I feel like me again." That first full day he put on quite the show: flitting from one topic of conversation to the next, unable to concentrate on anything for more than a minute, he felt like a total basket-case. He was ready to say the treatment was worse than the problem it was supposed to fix, but he adjusted with time.

"Glad to hear it," Alec told him. "So is this one of those side effects? Not sleeping well?"

Claus shook his head. "No, no. This is . . . something else."

"Mm-hmm," Alec nodded. "Bad dreams?"

"How'd you know?"

Alec gave a noncommittal shrug. "I didn't," he conceded, "but I figured it was a good guess. Want to talk about it?"

He did – desperately – not that he'd let on. "It's just a dream," Claus said. "Talking won't change anything, right?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. You let me be the judge of that," Alec told his grandson. "Either way, you can always tell me what's on your mind. Just think of me like a field of corn: I'm all ears."

Smirking, Claus gave in. "There was this guy," he explained. "From the . . . 'other world' I guess we'll call it. He was a bad person."

Alec nodded along understandingly, keeping his eyes on Claus even as he popped a pill in his mouth and took a sip of water. "Was it that Porky fellow you talked about?"

Claus shook his head. "No, not him, though maybe someone just as bad. He didn't have a name, but everyone called him the Commander." Even as the dream itself rapidly faded from his mind, that presence remained etched in his waking thoughts: the Commander, decked out in his leather jacket and helmet, his sword flashing and his bat-like wings spread out imposingly. Claus had never been on the outside looking in before, but now that he had it terrified him. "Even though he's gone, I can't seem to forget about him."

Alec screwed the cap onto one of his pill bottles and moved on to the next. "So what did this Commander do?" he asked.

"Whatever he was told," Claus answered. When he was told to eat, he ate. When he was told to sleep, he slept. When he was told to kill, he killed. It was all the same mundane thing to him: following orders. He never did so eagerly or gladly, but always quickly and efficiently, even brutally if those were his instructions. "Porky gave the orders and the Commander carried them out. He was the Pig King's enforcer, and he was very good at his job."

"Sounds like one tough customer," Alec acknowledged.

"It doesn't matter. He's gone now," Claus asserted. "It was just a dream. That's the only trace left of him." If he was hoping to reassure himself of that, it hadn't worked. No matter how much time passed the Commander was never far away.

"True, he's out of the picture and can't to hurt you anymore," Alec agreed as he loaded up another pill. He took a sip of water and swallowed before continuing. "But it does matter, just like all those things you went through matter. Whether they're dreams or memories, they still happened. They still hurt. An injury doesn't go away as soon as you get rid of whatever caused it."

"I wish there was something I could do," Claus said glumly. "I can't punch a dream, now can I?"

Alec chuckled and leaned back in his chair. "I suppose that's true enough. But if it helps, you don't have to: whatever's in those dreams of yours isn't some monster out to get you. It's your own head, trying real hard to tell you something."

Claus took little comfort in those words; of course the Commander was coming at him from inside his own head. "I guess."

"It's true," Alec continued. "Dreams are one way our bodies like to tell us things. Some ways are direct – like this blasted back of mine telling me I'm too old to be running around like some kid – while others can be confusing – you might've been a mess once you started taking your pills, but that's how your body told you they were working. Dreams are one of the more confusing ones, but if you listen to them you can learn a lot about yourself."

If it had to do with the Commander, Claus didn't want to learn any more. "If you say so."

"I'd wager this Commander left a real impact on you," Alec went on. "It might be that this is your way of putting the whole thing to bed once and for all. Remember, he might seem scary, but he can't hurt you anymore. As soon as you really understand that, I don't think you'll have to worry about him keeping you up ever again."

Claus looked up to meet his grandfather's gaze. "You think so?"

Alec cocked his head and looked off to the side. "Well . . . I can't say for certain," he admitted, "but there's a better than fair chance." While hardly an expert on such things, Alec had enough years behind him to know what he was talking about.

"I hope you're right," Claus told his grandfather. He would consider himself lucky if this dream never bothered him again, but deep down he knew the Commander was not so easily vanquished. Claus was certain he wasn't going to wake up one day as an emotionless automaton again, but he could feel something slipping. As he woke up from the nightmare he felt some small, nameless part of his soul slide from his grasp and vanish into the darkness of the night so quickly that he wasn't certain he'd ever had it to begin with.

As upsetting as it had been to see the Commander haunting his dreams, though, that fact alone was not what woke Claus up from an otherwise sound sleep. Rather, it was the last thing he saw before waking up that truly upset him and was now gnawing at his thoughts. As the Commander drew nearer, his terrifying bat wings larger than they'd ever been in reality, his expression cold and unfeeling, he removed his helmet. The face that Claus saw looking back at him was not his own. They were alike, certainly, but it was not his; it was his brother's.

"Hey grandpa? Can I ask you something?" Claus's voice was hushed and jittery.

"Of course you can," Alec answered with a gentle smile. He spoke with the compassion and patience of a veteran father and grandfather. If there was one thing he could offer, it was advice. "What's on your mind?"

"You believe me, right?" Claus wondered. "About everything that happened? Even though you don't remember any of it?" He had believed Lucas when his twin first revealed the truth, but he wasn't so sure the rest of the family would grant him the same benefit of the doubt.

"I sure do," Alec told him unabashedly.

". . . Why?" It was an obvious question. In hindsight he should have asked it a while ago, but he was fixated on so many other things that it had been brushed aside. Now, in the wee hours of the morning when it was only the two of them, it was finally the right time to get an answer.

"Well, it helps that Lucas backs you up," Alec acknowledged. "If it was just one of you I might think you had a nasty bump on the ol' noggin. But both of you? As I see it, either you two are in on some scheme to fool everybody – and I can say on my life that you boys aren't the type to go in for that – or it's the truth." He fished yet another pill from a third bottle as he spoke. The familiar ritual was almost comforting to him. "What sort of truth, I can't say. Maybe that really was us and we had our memories changed. Maybe this is a different world from that one and we never had any of those troubles around these parts. Either way, it doesn't matter much as far as where we go from here."

"And where's that?" Claus asked.

"Same place we're always going," Alec answered sagely. "Forward. No clue what it'll look like, but we're all heading there together. You've got a lot more days ahead of you than behind, kiddo. Keep that in mind."

"I will." Despite his grandfather's encouraging words, Claus remained troubled. He wanted to trust that everything would get better from now on, but the image of his brother as the Commander would not leave him alone. "So you . . . trust Lucas?"

"Of course I do," Alec assured him. "Don't you?"

Claus didn't respond right away. There was a time when he'd believe his twin no matter what, but that wasn't the case any longer. "He lied," Claus finally replied. "Or at least he didn't tell the truth. He didn't let anybody know what happened for a while, not until he told me. And even when he did, he didn't tell me everything. I _want_ to trust him, but I don't think I can."

Alec nodded. "That really is a shame. Do you think he had a good reason not to tell the truth?"

"I guess so." It wasn't that Claus couldn't understand why his brother would lie, but he thought Lucas trusted him more than that.

"And did anybody get hurt because of it?"

"Well . . . kind of? Not really." If the blonde had been honest then Claus could have been more useful. They might have not wound up in Osohe Castle. There were so many other factors that he couldn't say for sure. "I don't think it did Lucas much good." That much he was sure of.

"That sounds like something your brother needs to work on, then," Alec said as he scratched his beard. "But you can work on your side of things too. He's got to know he can always be honest with you. It might sound a little bit backwards, but try trusting him more than ever. If he thinks you won't believe him when he's honest with you, then he doesn't have a reason to tell the truth. If that happens then you really won't be able to trust him."

"It was Lucas," Claus blurted out suddenly. "In my dream. When the Commander took off his helmet, it was him."

Alec looked up, appearing perplexed at first, but then a smile spread across his face. The pieces were finally coming together. "I think I understand now," he said. "It sounds to me like this 'Commander' of yours isn't the problem."

"He's not?" Claus asked.

Shaking his head, Alec gave Claus a knowing look. "I don't think so, but let me know what you make of it. I'd guess this dream of yours is about Lucas. You're having a hard time trusting him, and then in your dreams he's in disguise as somebody you don't trust."

Claus scratched his head. "I guess so. But what does that mean?"

"You'd know better than I would," Alec intoned. "But it sounds to me like this is your body's way of trying to work through this thing that's come between you two. If you want to get over this dream, the way you do it is by learning to trust your brother again. Does that sound about right to you?"

Claus blinked a few times before answering. "That . . . makes sense, actually."

Alec gave a satisfied smile. "Well then, there you have it. One dream solved. Feel any better?"

"Yeah, actually," Claus responded. Even if the trust wasn't rebuilt, having a rational explanation for his dream made him feel much better about it. It certainly made more sense than the notion he was being tormented by his own alter ego. "Thanks."

"Thank me in the morning, kiddo," Alec said as he stood up again, rubbing his back as he did so. "I think it's about time we both hit the hay. Don't you?"

"Yeah," Claus nodded. "Goodnight, grandpa." He hopped up from his seat and turned to go.

"Goodnight," Alec answered with a smile.


	31. Wise Women

Hearing a gentle knock at the door, Caroline looked up. She hadn't been expecting company, but she would be glad to have it. The timing was great too, since she'd just finished cleaning up; even with only herself and her daughter to pick up after, keeping the household in good condition was a full-time chore in the winter months. She strode over to the door, teasing her hair with one hand to make sure she looked as presentable as the house did. She tugged at the handle and revealed some dear friends standing outside.

"Good morning, Caroline!" Hinawa greeted her warmly.

"I hope we didn't come at a bad time," Lisa added.

"Not at all," Caroline responded with a big smile. It was a relief to have someone other than her daughter's friends stop by for once. "Come on in out of the cold for goodness' sakes."

The two women graciously accepted the invitation, stepping inside and wiping their shoes on the mat. Lisa was quick to explain the reason for their visit. "We got this in this morning and I knew you were running low, so I thought I'd drop it off for you." She held up a package of flour for Caroline to see.

"Oh you didn't have to do that," Caroline told her. "I could've picked this up the next time I came by the bazaar."

Lisa dismissed Caroline's concerns out of hand. "Nonsense. It's the least I can do." She didn't say so, but they both immediately understood that Lisa was happy to have an excuse to get out and about.

"Lisa and I bumped into one another and I thought I'd tag along," Hinawa explained.

"Well I'll be sure to put this to good use," Caroline said as she accepted the package. "Remember when we used to bake bread together, Hinawa?"

"How could I forget?" Hinawa asked. "We must've gone through enough nuts to grow an entire forest five times over."

"I don't remember you complaining at the time," Lisa chuckled. "Not with how much bread you took to that handsome beau of yours."

"I was right about the stomach being the way to a man's heart, wasn't I?" Caroline pointed out as she went to put away the flour. "Can I get you two some tea?"

"I'd love some," Lisa said with a smile as she made her way over to the table. "Speaking of beaus how was that little date of yours Hinawa?"

"What date?" Hinawa played innocent, even knowing she wouldn't get away with it.

"Let's not beat around the bush. I know all about it," Lisa said with a grin. "Spill the beans."

"A date, huh?" Caroline asked as she filled the kettle with water. "What did Flint do this time?"

Hinawa chuckled as she joined Lisa at the table. "He didn't do anything. He simply thought a night out would be great for the both of us."

"Dinner and a show," Lisa added for Caroline's benefit. "Flowers, too. Anything else?"

Hinawa didn't like to kiss and tell, but it had been a very nice evening. "Well . . ."

"Spit it out, honey," Caroline told her. "Let some of us live vicariously."

"It's not a big deal or anything," Hinawa told them, "but we did a little dancing, too."

Lisa gave an exaggerated gasp. "Dancing! Heaven have mercy, that man does know how to lay it on thick."

"Didn't I see you and Thomas dancing at the festival this summer?" Caroline asked, hovering near the table once she had put the kettle on to boil.

"If you could call it that," Lisa shrugged. "My Thomas is a good man but he's got two left feet, the poor dear."

"Well from where I was standing you looked like you were having a good time," Hinawa noted.

"So who'd you go see?" Caroline asked HInawa. "I bet it was a DCMC show, right?"

"There aren't a lot of bands to pick from," Hinawa admitted. "But they were great. Duster set us up with the tickets."

"Speaking of whom, a little bird told me he's got a new lady love," Lisa announced with a cheeky smirk.

"Is it that pink-haired woman he's been hanging around?" Caroline asked, eager for the latest gossip. "I knew there was something going on there."

"Now girls, let's try and respect their privacy," Hinawa cautioned the other two. "What Duster and Kumatora get up to is none of our business."

Lisa rolled her eyes. Hinawa liked to play the wet blanket, but only because she typically had the inside scoop. "You're only saying that because you already know something."

"I am not." Hinawa said with mild indignation, opting not to disclose that one of the new songs DCMC had played at the show was by Duster and named in honor of "Princess K".

"If they're keeping it a secret then I won't pry," Caroline explained. "But if not, then what's the harm? It's great to see your neighbors happy, don't you think? I seem to remember the whole town was abuzz when you and Flint finally got together."

"You know how these things snowball," Hinawa warned them. "I don't want any rumors starting that might get somebody's feelings hurt."

"Nobody's listening for wedding bells quite yet," Lisa assured her. "But a little idle chatter keeps things interesting." As much as Lisa adored the quiet country lifestyle, it had the distinct drawback of offering little in the way of entertainment. Since she wasn't the one whose husband had recently taken her out for a fabulous evening, she had to make do with what she could suss out about the neighbors.

"Gosh, do you think they might get married someday?" Caroline asked. "I haven't had a chance to make a wedding cake in forever."

"Do you see what you've started?" Hinawa asked of Lisa.

"Don't go jumping the gun, dear," the blonde told Caroline. "For all we know they're not even an item yet and you're already picking out the dress."

"Can you blame me?" Caroline defended herself. "I love a wedding, and we haven't had one around here since Abbot and Abbey tied the knot."

Lisa glanced in Hinawa's direction before turning back to Caroline and responding. "Yes, darling, we remember. You went all out that day. I'd think you were planning your own wedding." Caroline had practically emptied the bazaar in her quest to make decorations, and left the fields surrounding the village empty of flowers on the big day.

"That ship sailed a long time ago," Caroline noted. There wasn't any regret in her voice, though perhaps there was a hint of longing. "But for the record, Abbey appreciated all my help. Goodness knows Abbot wasn't going to pitch in."

"That's men for you," Lisa assured her. "If I left it up to Thomas our wedding would've been a long lunch with only one or two guests. And don't you dare tell me Flint was any different, Hinawa; I was there."

Hinawa wasn't about to argue the point with the woman who was such a big help making sure her special day went off without a hitch. "Well that's just how Flint is," she said with a sigh.

Lisa was bolder in her approach. "That's how all men are, honey. Even the ones that want a nice wedding never consider all the little things that go into it. And it's not just weddings, either. Thomas and my precious Nichol would be lost without me to keep them on track. At least Richie has some sense, the little angel."

"Angie does too," Caroline said with a small chuckle. "It must be a lot of work to live with all those boys of yours, Hinawa. I can't imagine how you do it."

"You get used to it," Hinawa answered with a smile.

"Didn't you ever want a little girl, though?" Lisa wondered. "Having one of each, I can tell you it's a whole other experience."

"True, my boys never wanted to have tea parties or anything like that," Hinawa acknowledged, "but I don't feel like I missed out on anything I couldn't do without."

"I bet they never talked about their dream weddings with you, did they?" Caroline asked. "Angie used to tell me about hers all the time when she was a little girl."

"Richie did the same," Lisa echoed back. "I've imagined the day when we can finally dig that dress of mine out of the attic to see if it fits her. Thankfully it'll be some time before that happens; I'm not quite ready to feel that old just yet."

"I feel old enough as it is," Caroline groaned. "I just about keeled over when I first realized Angie was of an age to be interested in boys. It feels like she was only born yesterday." Suddenly the kettle began to whistle, prompting a quick response from Caroline.

"I know exactly what you mean," Hinawa spoke up over the kettle. "Lucas used to never even want to leave my side, but he's so independent these days. And Claus, well . . . I'm starting to see that he's not a little boy anymore."

"Did you and Flint ever talk about having more?" Lisa wondered. "Thomas and I did a few years back, but we kept putting it off, waiting for things to calm down. The next thing we knew we both felt like the opportunity had passed us by."

"We thought about it," Hinawa admitted quietly. "I think he would've gone along with me if I wanted another baby."

"I'm sure he would have," Caroline agreed as she took the kettle off the heat. "Those boys of yours are about the only thing that can get that man talking. I bet if you had a little girl he'd be the proudest papa in the whole village."

The image of her husband having tea parties and playing dollies got a laugh out of Hinawa. "Maybe when we have grandkids," she said. "But after the boys were born our family felt so perfect that I never wanted to change it." The thought of what might have been left her slightly melancholy.

Lisa clicked her tongue and shook her head at Hinawa. "If only things were so simple, dear. Before you know it those boys will be all grow up and moving out. You'd better enjoy that perfect family of yours while you can."

"Who even has the time? With how busy they keep me it's no wonder the years seem to go racing by." Hinawa would have loved to sit back and enjoy the time she had with her boys, but all three of the women could attest that there weren't enough hours in the day. "I guess more than anything else, that's why I enjoyed having a night out with Flint. It was a chance to relax without a care in the world, even if it was only for an evening. When was the last time either of you got to do that?"

"I'd say, but it'd only remind me how old I am," Lisa fretted.

"It feels like a lifetime ago," Caroline lamented as she rejoined her friends at the table. The tea still needed a few minutes to steep. "That's the curse of being a single mother I suppose."

"True. It can't be easy without someone to help carry the load," Hinawa acknowledged. "I wonder how Lighter handles it."

"The same way any of us do: as best he can," Caroline quipped. "With how often Fuel comes around, I can't help wondering . . . Well, not to imply that Lighter's not a perfectly fine father, but that boy seems so lonesome sometimes."

"I might be too if I was living out in the woods like that," Lisa pointed out. "That can't be good for a boy his age. Lighter's a fine man, but not the best company for a child. I wouldn't expect my kids to spend all their time with Thomas or even me, so it's not surprising that Fuel would want to get out of the house as much as he could."

"My boys are the same way," Hinawa agreed. "Claus has been especially stir crazy lately."

"I don't think anyone can blame you for keeping a close eye on them, though," Caroline assured her. "The whole town was in a tizzy when we heard what happened."

"You're right, but I wonder if I'm being a little overprotective," Hinawa admitted. "It was an accident, after all. Lucas is right as rain and Claus has been doing so much better; maybe I should let up a bit."

"Claus has been going to see Doc a lot lately," Lisa noted in a concerned tone. "Is everything alright with him?"

"Oh, it's nothing to worry about. Just some follow-ups." As much as she wanted to confide in her friends, Hinawa was not about to let word of Claus's condition slip out into the wild. She knew how fast rumors would spread if she didn't keep a tight lid on things. "It's my fault for being such a worry wart, I'm sure."

"We all used to think Lucas was the coddled one," Caroline said with a soft chuckle. "You'd better be careful, Hinawa, or those boys won't be able to take care of themselves when they're older."

Hinawa knew better. "I'm not concerned about that; if anything they're getting too good at it," she said. "Maybe I just want to feel useful to them while I still have the chance."

Lisa let out a heavy sigh. "You said it. As much as I might complain about all the work I have to do, I hate to think what it'll be like when the kids don't need me around."

"It's been me and Angie for so long, I don't know what I'll do with myself once she's ready to go out on her own," Caroline confessed. "Do you think she'll at least visit?"

"Of course she will, dear," Lisa assured her. "Once she's married and has her own little family, who else would she turn to when she needs to complain about them? Preferably over a cup of tea with the best nut cookies in town."

Caroline had a good laugh at that. "That'll be the day. And I'm certain you don't have a thing to worry about, Hinawa: no matter how old they get, men will always be their mothers' little boys."

Hinawa gave a drawn-out sigh and relaxed in her seat. "I hope you're right."

Lisa leaned forward and spoke up confidently. "I'll tell you this much, girls: when we're all old and gray and alone because our kids have moved on with their lives, we'll still have each other. Deal?"

"Deal," Caroline assented.

Hinawa smiled and gave a nod. "Deal."


	32. Orphans

Duster leaned in close over the burbling pot, wooden spoon in hand. He sniffed, gave the stew a few stirs, and then had a taste. It was missing something, but was by no means bad. On a day as chilly as this one it would be the perfect lunch. The smell was enough to tempt him to go back for seconds, but he had to finish getting ready.

Wiping his hands, Duster hobbled over to get the dishes. He hummed a little tune, pausing for a moment to look at his reflection in a spoon and give himself a last once-over. The curved surface only magnified his already oversized schnoz, but aside from that he looked good with his slicked-back hair and pressed shirt.

"What do you think you're doing?" Wess asked from his comfortable old rocking chair in front of the fireplace.

"Your silverware's dirty," Duster told his father. "Are you sure you're doing alright without me? I can come by tomorrow and help clean up. Maybe throw out some of that old stuff in the basement."

"I've told you a hundred times: don't go through my things!" Wess growled.

"Whatever you say," Duster responded calmly as he made his way to the table. "But when you need a hand, I'll be here to help."

"Lucky me," Wess grumbled. "I may be a master thief, but I'd be doomed without a lowly musician to come to my aid."

Duster ignored his father's remarks and continued to set the table for three. He'd told Kumatora when to expect lunch, but she was already running a bit behind. At least she actually agreed to join them – this meal had been a long time coming.

"You find the Egg of Light yet?' Wess asked as he shifted about in his chair.

"Not yet," Duster replied.

"What are you wasting time around here for then? I promised the old king on my life that I'd watch over that thing, and the very first chance you got you threw it in the river!" Wess had made no secret of his displeasure on the matter and was showing no signs of letting up.

"We've still got to eat," Duster reminded him. "Besides, you promised Kumatora we'd all have lunch."

"No, I promised lunch for _her_ ," Wess corrected his son. "I don't remember saying you'd get to join us."

"Well somebody has to cook it," Duster pointed out, "and I didn't see you volunteering."

"Far be it for me to take away a chance for you to make yourself useful," Wess snorted.

"I'm happy to help," Duster responded earnestly. That was the closest thing to a compliment he was likely to get out of Wess and he didn't want to dissuade such small niceties. "Can I get you something to drink while we wait?"

"Bourbon," Wess responded without hesitation. "There should be a bottle in the cabinet there."

"Isn't it a little early for that?" Duster suggested.

"Dammit, if you're going to ask then don't argue," Wess sneered. "When you get to be my age maybe then we'll see what you think is too early. I don't need you coming around and acting like you're the one in charge in my home."

"Fair enough," Duster conceded before bending down to retrieve the bourbon. He considered arguing that it was his home as well, but then he remembered he'd given up on that claim months earlier. At least he could still come around from time to time without much of a fuss.

"Keep the bottle handy," Wess instructed. "Princess Kumatora might want some too."

"Just call her Kumatora," Duster reminded his father. "She hates being called princess."

"Her father was the same way," Wess recalled nostalgically. "But old habits die hard. Not that you'd know anything about that."

"Can you try to be on your best behavior today?" Duster pleaded.

"There you go again, acting like you're the boss or something," Wess scowled. "Don't you forget who it was that taught you everything you know about behaving yourself in the first place."

Duster approached his father, glass of bourbon in hand. "Here's your drink," he said with a smile. "Be nice, okay?"

Wess's sour expression softened somewhat as he accepted the glass. "Oh fine. If you're going to put it like that, I'll go the extra mile. Don't say I never did anything for you."

"I wouldn't dare," Duster said as he returned to the table. Wess had been especially feisty after Duster told him that he wanted to be a musician. It had made for a bumpy road to travel, but at the same time there was a new understanding between the father and son, something that only the two of them truly noticed.

After a few minutes there was a knock at the door. Duster jumped at the noise, exposing how nervous he actually was. If Wess noticed he didn't let on though. Smoothing his shirt once more, Duster went to answer, opening the door to reveal Kumatora on the other side.

"Hey there," she greeted him with a slight smile. She hadn't dressed up or anything for the occasion, but her hair was tidier than it normally was.

"You're right on time," Duster let Kumatora know as he showed her in. He took her jacket and hung it up on the rack by the door as she continued inside.

"Well well, you finally decided to stop by pri — erm, Kumatora," Wess said as he stood up from his rocking chair and greeted her with a slight bow and a drink in his hand.

"Still kicking around, old man Wess?" she asked with a wry smile. "I figured you would've moved to the cemetery by now."

"You can't get rid of me that easily," Wess guffawed. "From what I hear you'll beat me to it, gallivanting around with that moron son of mine. Did he get himself into any scrapes he couldn't get out of yet?"

Kumatora laughed. "Plenty. Good thing I was there."

"Don't bother next time," Wess told her. "It's the only way he'll learn."

"Can I get you something to drink, Kumatora?" Duster offered.

She shrugged. "Whatever's handy. I'm not picky."

Wess smirked, Kumatora's demeanor reminding him of one he hadn't seen in many years. "Just like your father . . ." he muttered.

Her ears perked up. "What's that?"

"Nothing, nothing," Wess waved the thought away. "There's a lot of your old man in you, is all. I'm sure you're too young to remember."

"I hope you're both hungry, because we've got plenty of stew," Duster interrupted.

"So, Duster tells me you two are a thing now, huh?" Wess asked as he strolled over to the table.

"That's right," Kumatora said, flashing Wess a glance that warned him to choose his words carefully.

"You could do better," Wess shrugged. He took a long sip and swallowed before continuing his thought. "Then again, I suppose you could also do worse. Bunch of lazy idiots around these parts if you ask me."

"I'd say I did just fine. Bad breath is easier to fix than laziness." She winked at Duster.

The musician smiled back as he handed Kumatora her drink. "I thought it was high time we all had lunch, dad. Goodness knows neither of you two were sending out invitations."

Wess wrinkled his nose. "She knows where the door is if she wants to stop by," he said in a grumpy tone. "It's not my place to invite the . . . to invite a young lady to my house."

"Gimme a break, ya old geezer," Kumatora snorted. "You were worried I'd paralyze you again, I bet."

"Like I'd let my guard down around you again," Wess said with a grin. "You had your shot, girl. Don't think you'll get another one."

"I'll grab the stew," Duster announced, even knowing the other two weren't paying him any mind.

Kumatora eyed her boyfriend as he turned and said, "I hate to see you go, but I love watching you walk away."

"Take it down a notch," Wess quietly grumbled. "Honestly, I don't even know what you see in that moron."

She shrugged at the old man. "Eh. He was there."

Snickering at her reasoning, Wess called out to his son. "Hear that, boy? She likes you for your one talent: taking up space."

Duster had a little laugh as well, knowing that his father had missed the princess' joke. In private, Kumatora had given a similar, but more revealing answer: unlike anyone else, he was always there for her. In a lifetime without anyone to count on, he stood apart. "Do you want any bread?" he asked.

"None for me, thanks," Kumatora replied.

"You're damn right I do," Wess chimed in. "Don't be stingy."

Duster nodded. "Coming right up."

"So you knew my dad?" Kumatora asked Wess, her voice lower than before.

"Sure did," the elder thief told her. "Who do you think made me promise to keep an eye on the castle for you? And I'll have you know I did a mighty fine job of it right up until this idiot fouled everything up with the Egg of Light."

"That wasn't his fault," Kumatora interjected.

"He was there, wasn't he?" Wess pointed out. "He could've done something and he didn't, so yes it is his fault and don't you tell him otherwise."

"Whatever, gramps. Just tell me about my old man. What was he like?" Her tone belied a concealed curiosity. She'd never had much occasion to talk about her father.

"You mean to tell me you don't know?" Wess assumed that it would have been well-trod ground for the princess.

"Who was gonna tell me?" she asked. "All I know is that he was the last king."

"Well, there's not much to say," Wess confessed. "And it was quite some time ago, you understand."

"I don't need your life's story, only what you remember about him," Kumatora said.

"He was humble, as far as kings go," Wess recalled. "That might've been due to circumstances, though. Even at the time, Osohe Castle was long past its prime and its royals were in the same state. As far as I know, you and I are the only people left with ties to that place. It's a shame, too; from what I hear it was a real sight to behold, back in the day."

"You were saying something about my father . . . ?"

"I'm getting to that," he snapped at her. "He was a gentle fellow. Soft-spoken. In other words, completely different from you." Wess chuckled briefly, but stopped when he saw Kumatora found no humor in it. "He hated making a fuss and being waited on. He'd rather be the one pouring the drinks than sipping them. Made a mean cocktail, now that I think about it."

"Soup's up," Duster butted in, ladling some stew from the pot into Kumatora's bowl.

"So what happened to him?" Kumatora asked, disregarding her boyfriend for the moment.

"I don't really know all the details," Wess was forced to admit. "Like I said, it was a very long time ago. All I can say for certain is that he knew the end was coming and he was putting things in order. He sent you off to be raised someplace safe, and I was sworn to watch over the castle's treasure. Then, one day, he was simply gone. The castle was abandoned, left to ghosts and spiders and whatever else would dare dwell there. And here I remained, never too far from the old ruin to watch over it. I hoped Duster here would carry on my legacy after I was gone, but . . . so much for that I suppose. Not that it matters now that the egg is lost."

"Here's your bread, dad," Duster said as he finished dishing up lunch. "Careful, that stew is hot."

"Did you know the queen?" Kumatora inquired further.

"Your mother?" Wess stroked his moustache thoughtfully before answering. "I don't believe I ever met the woman, sadly. Oh, I'm sure she was around somewhere, but she didn't make any appearances at the castle."

"I can't remember either of them at all," Kumatora remarked before she spooned up a mouthful of stew.

"Can't blame you for that, you being so young at the time," Wess reminded her. "Shoot, I'd be surprised if even Duster remembered much from back then, it was so long ago."

"You didn't exactly invite me to go to the castle with you," Duster recalled as he sat down to join the others. "Still, you should feel honored, Kumatora. My dad's more willing to talk about your mother than he is mine."

"That woman was a saint, rest her soul," Wess blurted out. "Too good for this world."

"So you've said," Duster nodded.

"Don't you sass me," Wess scowled. "A moron like you doesn't know what he's talking about."

"Hey," Kumatora cut in. "Lay off my boyfriend, geezer."

"Fine, fine. No sense getting riled up," Wess conceded. "The stew's not half bad, so I guess you're not a complete moron."

"Glad you like it," Duster responded cordially.

The rest of the meal passed uneventfully, though perhaps not as jovially as Duster might have liked. He had expected his father to be grumpy, but Kumatora was clearly on edge as well. He could see the gears turning in her head, even from where he sat.


	33. Best Friend

The warmth coming off the hearth was absolutely hypnotic. Boney could (and often would) spend his whole day lying close enough to the flames that he risked the occasional spark singeing him. Despite all that, the sound of movement near the entryway caught his attention. His ears swiveled toward the door and his head followed. The second he saw one of his humans reaching for a pair of boots, the dog was up in a flash.

"Don't stay out too long, dear," Hinawa instructed her eldest son.

"Yes, ma'am," Claus nodded as he pulled on one boot.

"And no leaving town," his mother continued.

"Yes, ma'am," he repeated.

"And be sure to—" She was interrupted by Boney, who ran up beside the pair with his tail wagging and tongue hanging out. Her train of thought interrupted, Hinawa gave the dog a pat on the head before she continued. "Just be safe, okay?"

"I will, mom," Claus assured her, unable to conceal his smile at finally being allowed to go out on his own again.

"Woof! (Do you want me to take you for a walk?)" Boney barked.

"That's the plan, buddy," Claus said as he scratched to hound behind the ears.

"I'll have lunch ready for you and your brother as soon as you bring him home," Hinawa went on. "You'd better hurry if you don't want it getting cold. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Hinawa sighed and gave her son a hug. "Sorry to make such a big production," she apologized. "Go on, now, before Boney loses his mind."

The dog had been anxiously circling the pair since Claus confirmed that a walk was going to happen. It had been too long since Claus had taken him anywhere, and with the snow finally beginning to melt it would be a pleasure to get out and about again.

Boney charged outside as soon as Claus popped the door open enough for him to slip through. He looked out over the sea for a few moments until his master joined him. Boney jumped up playfully and darted around, barely able to contain his excitement. Fortunately, Claus knew exactly what to do about that. He reached down and grabbed a stick lying next to the dog house.

"Want this, boy?" he asked.

Boney crouched down, his eyes fixed on the stick. A low whine rumbled in his throat as he waited like a stretched rubber band.

"You want it?" Claus repeated, waving the stick a bit. "Go get it!"

The stick went flying down the path and Boney chased after it with Claus hot on his heels. It didn't take long for Boney to both retrieve and return the stick, allowing their game to continue as the duo made their way into Tazmily. Boney was glad to see his master getting some much-needed exercise; the boy had gone too long without getting his blood pumping in the dog's opinion, so he wanted to be sure to fit in as much activity as he could.

As they reached the edge of town Claus saw something which had his heart racing for an altogether different reason. Boney noticed the sudden change in his master's demeanor, and quickly identified the culprit. There was Fuel, walking out of the bazaar, his normally spiky hair hidden beneath a gray beanie that matched his ratty hoodie.

The dog prodded his master for attention. There would be plenty of time for his other friends later when they weren't in the middle of a very important game.

"Huh?" Claus snapped back to reality. "Oh, sorry." He went to grab the stick to throw it once more, but Boney kept his jaws clamped tight around it. "C'mon, give it here. I can't throw it with you still attached."

"Claus?" Fuel asked, his face lighting up once he noticed the boy and his dog. "Hey! What's up?"

"Oh, y'know. Not much," Claus chuckled softly as he struggled to get the stick back. "Just walking Boney."

"So your mom finally let you off the leash, huh?" he asked with a grin as he sauntered closer. "About time. I don't think I ever got grounded as long as you did."

"I wasn't—" Claus cut himself off and took a deep breath. As much as he might want to explain, he knew it wouldn't do any good to get into it right now. "It doesn't matter. I can go out again."

"Awesome!" Fuel exclaimed and pumped his fists. "I was getting bored all by myself." Finally the weather was breaking, winter was fading, and he had his best friend back.

"Me too," Claus replied with a dopey smile. It was at that moment that Boney let go of the stick and Claus stumbled backwards. The boy eyed his dog suspiciously, wondering whether he'd done that on purpose, but Boney just stared back with big, excited eyes and a wagging tail. Defeated, Claus tossed the stick once more.

"You want to hang out?" Fuel asked as Boney ran off.

"I'd love to!" Claus jumped at the request, only to remember the reason he was allowed to go out in the first place. ". . . But I can't right now." If he wanted there to be a next time, he couldn't afford to screw this up.

Fuel was clearly disappointed, but did his best to hide it behind a shrug and a casual smirk. "Oh. Well, no big deal or anything. Maybe some other time. Or not. Whatever."

"I gotta find Lucas," Claus was quick to explain. "Have you seen him?"

Fuel scratched at his scalp under his beanie. "Not today," he said. "I've only been to the bazaar, though, so I couldn't tell you much. Do you need a hand?"

Boney bounded back over to his master, proudly carrying the stick and ready to go again. He would not be ignored.

"It's okay, you don't have to," Claus excused his friend as he took hold of the stick and gave it another throw. "I'm sure Boney and I can find him on our own."

"Dude, gimme a break," Fuel insisted. "I got nothing better to do and you could use another set of eyes. Don't be a buzzkill."

"Buzzkill?" Claus laughed. "Is that the best you could come up with, butthead?"

Fuel smirked fiendishly. "I was going easy on you, numbnuts."

"Dipshit."

"Dork."

Before either of them could keep going, Boney returned again, this time bringing the stick to Fuel. "Okay, jeeze, I'll throw it," Fuel assured the dog over the insistent nudging. He took the stick and tossed it in one fluid motion. Though he never had a pet of his own, he had long since grown used to dealing with Boney.

Hating the thought of turning Fuel away after hardly seeing him all winter long, Claus gave in. "Alright, fine. You can help," he agreed. "Can you check by the river while I scope out the beach?"

"You don't want to go together?" Fuel looked wounded at the perceived exclusion.

"We'll cover more ground that way," Claus explained. "You don't mind, right?"

Fuel couldn't deny his friend's rationale, even if he wasn't entirely convinced that it was the real reason. "No, it's cool," he shrugged. "Meet at the well in five?"

"Yeah," Claus nodded. "See you soon."

Boney returned right as Fuel was heading off. He cocked his head at Claus even as he still clung to the stick in his mouth.

"Don't give me that look," Claus said as he started walking.

"(What look?)" Boney whined as he trotted beside his human.

"The one that tells me I should have invited him to come with us," Claus explained. "Whatever you're going to say, I don't want to hear it right now."

"Woof! (I wasn't going to say anything,)" Boney barked.

"Well you were thinking it," Claus said as he grabbed the stick out of Boney's mouth and started tossing it between his hands. "You think I like him."

"Woof woof! (You do like him!)" the dog insisted. He might not always understand his family, but he was certain of that much.

Claus sighed and hung his head in defeat. "Yeah," he grumbled. "But he doesn't like me."

Boney kept his eyes on the stick even as he barked a response. "(How come?)"

Claus could only shrug. "I dunno. I mean, he doesn't have to or anything." Reminding himself of that fact did little to relieve the pain of rejection, though. "I'm being stupid anyway. There's no way he'd like me in a million years. It's just that. . ." Claus would have thought recovering his memories of the past might make everything now seem trivial by comparison, but it didn't. If anything, his feelings for Fuel were one of the few things that helped him to feel human, and knowing they were not returned made him long for those days when he felt nothing at all. "It sucks, liking somebody that doesn't like you back."

"(I like you,)" Boney assured the boy.

Claus reached down to scratch his dog behind the ears. "Thanks buddy," he said with a halfhearted chuckle. "I'm glad someone does."

Boney savored the scratching sensation. He'd missed the time he and Claus would spend together outside. Wandering the forests and caves, coming across all sorts of creatures big and small, the countless sights, smells and tastes that painted their home in so many vibrant colors – that was the sort of thing that Boney lived for. He would watch the sheep every day of his life if he was asked to, but it was in such fleeting moments when it was only him and his family that he found his greatest joy.

As the buildings started to thin out again, Claus spotted one of his neighbors enjoying the fresh air. "Hey, Reggie!" he greeted the man warmly.

"Nice day, little man," Reggie waved back with a broad smile. "You've been away a while, but now you're back. I knew it was only a matter of time before the sun rose again."

"Things are looking up," Claus told him, his sour mood dissipating at the sight of a friendly face.

"Good times and bad alike, they all wash away eventually," Reggie mused, half to himself. "Nothing treats pain quite like a brand new day."

"I guess," Claus said, though in his case it took a little bit more than time to do the trick. "Have you seen Lucas come through here?"

Reggie shook his head. "Apologies, little man. Reggie's had his eyes open all morning long, but no sign of your brother by the waves. The sound of the surf hasn't been calling to him today, but who knows what tomorrow might bring?"

"Thanks anyway," Claus said. "If you do see him, tell him to head home. Okay?"

"Will do. Reggie's got your back," he assured the boy. "Just remember: when you're looking for something, you don't always have to chase after it. Wait where it'll go and it'll come to you when it's ready. Everything washes up on the beach sooner or later."

"I'd better keep looking anyway," Claus said with a laugh. "If I wait for 'later' my mom'll yell at me."

"We've all got to follow our own rivers," Reggie nodded understandingly. "You're welcome at Reggie's place any time your river brings you by."

"Thanks!" Claus said, turning to go. After a few paces he stopped when he notice Boney was lagging behind. "What is it?" he asked the dog.

Boney looked up at him and gave a small whine. "(Maybe Reggie can help.)"

"He already said he hasn't seen Lucas," Claus reminded the dog.

"Woof! (Not with that,)" Boney barked. "(With Fuel.)"

Claus tensed up at the suggestion. "Huh? No! No, no, no. I'm not talking to Reggie about that."

Boney cocked his head to the side. "Woof! (Why not?)"

"He can't help," Claus tried to make his dog understand. "It's . . . complicated."

"(I don't get humans sometimes,)" Boney whined.

"I know you don't," Claus said as he reached down to stroke Boney's head. "But thanks for trying anyway, boy."

"Woof! (Where to next?)" Boney asked.

"Let's go wait for Fuel," Claus said as he tossed the stick in his hand. Normally both Boney and Claus would hate waiting around, but armed with a stick and each other for company, they wouldn't mind at all.


	34. Broken Bonds

Leder stroked his chin ponderously. Though he could not interrupt his ever-important bell ringing, he could spare a bit of his attention for the blonde boy at his feet. Lucas could only return the look out of the corner of his eye, his expression partially hidden behind a red and yellow scarf. Even with the snow beginning to melt away, both of their breaths still came out as a pale fog.

At long last, Leder gave his answer. "All is forgiven, Lucas," he said, his voice deep but quiet from disuse.

With that, Lucas smiled up at the tall man. "Thanks!" he said cheerily. "And, um, if you ever do want to talk to somebody, don't be afraid to say hi. I mean, it's not like you have to worry about keeping the other world a secret from me, right?"

Leder mulled over his response, but before he could give it someone else cut in. "Lucas!" Claus shouted as he ran up, followed closely by Boney with Fuel lazily bringing up the rear. "So this is where you've been."

"Woof! (We've been looking all over for you,)" Boney explained. "Woof woof! (Your mom wants you to come home for lunch.)"

"Oh, okay," Lucas agreed, suddenly regretting his unannounced departure earlier in the morning. "I'll see you later, Mr. Leder!"

Leder gave a slight nod that only Lucas noticed. Fuel and Boney took him for the same peculiar mute he always was. Claus, on the other hand, shot the man a glare before turning back to his friend. "Thanks for your help, Fuel," the redhead said appreciatively.

"No problem," Fuel shrugged. "I'm just happy to see you outside again."

"Do you want to have lunch with us?" Lucas offered. "I'm sure our mom won't mind."

Fuel had to admit the thought of a homemade meal made his mouth water, but he was still forced to decline. "Sorry, I can't. I need to get home before my dad throws a fit." After Claus had opted to split up in their search earlier, Fuel thought it was best to give the other boy some space.

"I hope we didn't make you late," Lucas fretted.

"No, it's cool," Fuel assured his friend.

"Don't be a stranger," Claus said. "It'd be great to hang out again soon."

Fuel brightened when he saw the smile return to Claus's face. "Looking forward to it. See you guys!"

With Fuel jogging off into the woods, Lucas, Claus and Boney turned back toward home. The promise of mom's cooking churned their stomachs and hastened their footfalls. Claus considered asking his brother about what he had to say to Leder, but decided it was a matter best left alone so long as Lucas wasn't upset.

A familiar scent captured Boney's interest, but it was no cause for alarm. Soon enough his humans caught on as well, as a pair of familiar faces stood in their path. In the middle of the road leading back into town was Kumatora with her hands on her hips, her lips drawn and her jaw set. Duster was there with her, not paying the boys and their dog any mind as he leaned against Pusher and Elmore's house.

"Lucas," Kumatora greeted the boy coldly before he had a chance to speak up.

Lucas could feel the tension in the air as he approached. Something was off, but he kept his cool and replied with a disarming smile. "Hey there, Kumatora. What's up?"

Duster turned to face the trio and looked the redhead straight in the eye. "Claus, can you come with me for a minute?"

The hairs on the back of Claus's neck stood on end. He could tell that this wasn't a request. "Why?" he asked.

"Kumatora needs to speak to Lucas," Duster explained coolly. The thief's expression was more serious than normal, his eyes darting from Claus to Kumatora and back again. "Alone."

Claus took a step closer to his brother, putting himself between Lucas and the princess. "About what?" he asked as his gaze fell onto Kumatora. As much as he tried to put his time as the Commander behind him, a part of him still wouldn't trust the princess; after all, most of his experiences with her involved her trying to kill him and vice versa.

"It's okay," Lucas whispered as he placed a hand on his brother's shoulder and stepped forward. "I'll be fine."

"I'm not going anywhere," Claus whispered back through clenched teeth.

"Whatever," Kumatora spoke up. "Stay if you like. This concerns you, too."

"What concerns me?" Claus asked defensively.

Kumatora narrowed her eyes and took one step forward. "The truth," she said. "Don't you think it's about time you told everyone the truth, Lucas?"

The blonde backed away slightly, his smile dissolving into a confused frown. "I don't know what you're talking about," he insisted. Whatever had Kumatora on the warpath, he had regrettably found himself directly in her way.

Kumatora gave a dismissive snort. If the boy wasn't going to fess up to his little deception of his own accord, she was going to have to draw it out of him. "There never was a king of Osohe Castle, was there?"

Lucas held his tongue, unsure of what – if any – answer would help. Perhaps he should have disclosed Leder's story about the end of the world to the others, but after trying to make Claus understand it he realized that asking people to believe not one but two different levels of misremembered history was a tall order for a single sitting.

"I'll take that as a no," Kumatora concluded.

Lucas tried to answer, but nothing came out. Finally he slouched in defeat and asked: "Is that what you want to hear?"

Disdain flashed in Kumatora's face for an instant, but she restrained herself. Anger wouldn't get her what she was after. "What I want is the truth, kid."

Claus looked between his brother and Kumatora. He knew they should have told the others about the white ship and the Hummingbird Egg, but at the time it didn't seem important. Whether or not her anger was justified, though, Claus wasn't about to let Kumatora bully his twin like this. "Stop it," he hissed, stepping forward again with his fists clenched.

Ignoring Claus, Kumatora kept her focus solely on Lucas, the boy behind it all. "So what'll it be, huh? Are you going to admit what you did?"

Lucas held up his hands and hung back. "I didn't do anything," Lucas insisted in hopes that it might keep her calm. "If this is about the king and all that, then . . ." Where could he even start? Leder's story was so outlandish that he wasn't sure she would believe him even if he told her. Honestly, even Lucas had a hard time buying into it.

His efforts to defuse the situation only seemed to make matters worse. "I know the Dragon didn't do a damn thing!" Kumatora snapped at him. "It was you all along! You're the one that changed the world! You're the one who erased everyone's memories! It was always you!"

The accusation struck Claus with disbelief. He turned, wide-eyed, to gauge his brother's response. The blonde flinched and cast his eyes downward, but said nothing.

"Settle down," Duster cautioned the princess. "Let's hear what he has to say."

"Well?" Kumatora sneered.

Lucas took a short breath to regain his composure before answering. "But it _was_ the Dragon," he asserted in a meek, shaking voice. "I d-don't know how it happened, but it—"

"Shut up!" Kumatora shouted him down, finally losing patience. She was finished with the boy's lies and misdirection. When Claus had accused him of being a liar back in the clinic she wasn't convinced, but time had proven that point.

Boney leapt in front of Lucas and barked at Kumatora. Undeterred, Kumatora pressed harder. She was going to get an answer out of Lucas one way or another. "Why would an all-powerful Dragon waste its time bringing your family back from the dead, huh?" she asked. "Why them and not anybody else? Why would it care? And why would it leave only _you_ with any memory of what happened? Answer me that!"

"I didn't do this!" Lucas swore, praying that she would believe him this time. "If I did, I would've brought back the Magypsies too! I wouldn't have taken everyone's memories away!" Or so he liked to think. In his heart, though, Lucas wondered if he preferred a world where nobody else could remember all the terrible things that came before.

"And you expect me to believe you?" Kumatora snarled.

Duster sighed and did his best to ease the tension. "You promised you'd listen," he reminded her. "Let him talk."

Kumatora finally took her eyes off Lucas long enough to respond to the thief. "He hasn't said anything," she pointed out, her frustration written all over her face.

Unlike Duster and Kumatora, Claus was close enough to see Lucas's nervous shaking. It wasn't the cold, and it wasn't merely anxiety at being confronted like this. His brother was hiding something. "Lucas?" he asked, finding his voice once more. "Is she right?"

Lucas turned to face Claus with a wounded expression. "No!"

"I won't be mad," the older twin said in a hushed tone. "Just please . . . don't lie anymore."

"It's not a lie."

It was subtle, but Claus was certain his brother's voice wavered – or maybe he was imagining things. Part of him wanted to do as his grandpa suggested and give his brother the benefit of the doubt. Another, louder part needed to get at the truth. "Tell me you didn't have anything to do with this."

Lucas shrank back, squinting slightly and huddling into his scarf. "You don't believe me?"

Claus bit his lip. "Tell the truth, Lucas."

"I am!" He was getting more desperate, more insistent, but also more transparent.

"He's never going to fess up," Kumatora said as she paced back and forth. "I knew this whole thing was a waste of time."

"Have a little patience," Duster reassured her. "Lucas, you know something you're not telling us, don't you?"

Lucas didn't say anything. Instead he looked at his brother meekly, silently pleading for a little trust, a little faith. He needed to know that he hadn't squandered what used to be there.

Claus sighed and relented. "Okay, look. If . . ." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes before going on. "If you swear that you told me everything you know about what happened – and I mean _everything_ – then I'll believe you."

Lucas could sense that this was his last chance, and he flinched. "It's not important," he mumbled.

Claus leaned in close and whispered: "Tell me."

"I didn't do anything," Lucas repeated himself quietly. "And the Dragon really was behind all this, but . . ." He couldn't bring himself to keep going.

"But. What?" Kumatora hovered just behind the boy's back, her imposing form casting a shadow over him.

"But it's not so simple," Lucas tried to explain without looking back at Kumatora again. "When I pulled the Needles, the Magypsies said I passed my heart on to the Dragon. So when it woke up, it had my heart inside it. I think that's why the world turned out this way."

Kumatora tapped her chin, pondering the revelation. "So if this is because of what was in your heart, then where are the Magypsies?" she asked after a long pause. "You said you'd have brought them back, right?"

Lucas craned his head around to look at her. "I would've," he assured her. "But I guess the Dragon didn't feel the same way. Maybe it was mad at them for keeping it asleep all those years."

Throwing up her hands in disgust, Kumatora went back to pacing. She hated to admit it, but this explanation made as much sense – if not more – than the one she'd come up with. A kid with the power to reshape reality probably wouldn't almost drown in a river, but a Dragon with a child's heart might make a world like this one. "Great," she growled. "So you're telling me we're all living in a fantasy world made by a Dragon out of the things you wanted most."

"It isn't a fantasy," Lucas stated firmly before the princess could keep going. "Even if you don't remember what happened, everyone here is real."

Duster looked at Claus. "Did you know about this?"

The boy shook his head, still unsure what to make of things. "I only knew that the Dragon woke up when the Needles were pulled, but nobody ever told me about this 'heart' business. Why keep it a secret, Lucas?"

"Because it's his fault," Kumatora realized. "He might not have done it himself, but it was his heart that changed the world into this. You, your mom, the Pigmasks, everyone's memories – it's all what he wanted."

"I know it's my fault!" Lucas snapped at her, his voice cracking under the weight of the fear he'd kept secret from everyone since he first saw his brother sitting down for breakfast like nothing bad had ever happened. "But is this so wrong? A world without Porky and his army? A world where we can all live in peace? Where mom and Claus are still alive?"

"Where no one remembers what happened?" Duster intoned. "That's not your call to make."

"I didn't have a choice!" Lucas persisted. "The world would've been destroyed if I didn't pass on my heart. Don't you think that's a little bit worse than some amnesia? Even if I knew for a fact that this would be the result, I still would have done it, and I know you all would have agreed with me."

"Well ain't that precious," Kumatora snorted derisively. "Congrats, kid: you saved the world. But now thanks to you we have to save it all over again."

"What are you talking about?" Lucas asked her with a cockeyed look.

"Do I have to spell it out for you?" Kumatora spat. "You woke up a Dragon that's going around changing reality according to _your_ whims! It could erase everyone's memories again at any time and we'd never know! I'm not going to let it get away with that, and I'd hope you'd feel at least a little bit responsible for your part in all this."

"Kumatora's right, Lucas," Claus said, breaking his ponderous silence with a newfound resolve. "We've got to stop the Dragon."

Turning again to face his brother, Lucas felt a fresh panic creeping up his spine. "What? Why?!"

Claus stared his twin in the eyes. "For the same reason you had to stop Porky," he explained. "He was a tyrant. He brainwashed people; tortured animals; treated the whole world like his own personal toy box. He ripped away my memories and made me into his plaything. How's this any different?"

"Because the Dragon isn't hurting anybody!" Lucas countered passionately. "It brought you and mom back from the dead! The Dragon gave you back all the memories that Porky took away and got rid of the worst years of your life!"

"Those were MY years, Lucas!" Claus snarled. "They were terrible, but they were mine, damn it! Who's this Dragon to take them away from me?"

Unwilling to bend, Lucas pushed back. "The Dragon's not going to destroy the world. People are safe and happy and . . . alive. What's wrong with that?"

"Wasn't New Pork City safe too?" Claus demanded. "Weren't all those brainwashed soldiers happy to be working for their pig king? Didn't Porky take away the worst memory of my entire life when he made me forget about mom?!"

"Don't you understand, Lucas?" Duster pleaded. "Happiness can't be handed to you on a silver platter. It's something you have to make with your own two hands. Anything else is . . . fake."

Lucas snapped his ahead around to look at Duster. "Claus isn't fake," he croaked, blinking tears from his eyes. "My mom isn't fake. And don't you dare tell me I didn't work hard to get here. We all did. You, Kumatora, Boney and me. We all nearly died to make this happen. Just because you don't remember it doesn't mean you haven't earned the right to be happy."

"I'm not happy," Claus responded bitterly as he walked closer to Duster and Kumatora. "And I never will be so long as that Dragon is out there. I might not have been able to stop Porky, but you better believe I'm not about to let the Dragon get away with the same thing."

Lucas followed his brother with his eyes. "Stop being so hasty, Claus! What do you think will happen to you and mom without the Dragon, huh? You'd both be dead! Do you really think I'll let you kill yourself again?"

"So it's okay to mess with everybody's memory as long as you get what you want, huh?" Claus asked. "You went through hell trying to stop Porky just so you could turn into him?"

Lucas's blood boiled at the comparison – especially coming from his own brother of all people. "I'm nothing like Porky!"

"Could've fooled me," Claus spat angrily. "You don't give a damn about what the Dragon is doing to people. The only thing that matters to you is having me and mom back. You're so selfish!"

"Selfish?!" Lucas snarled. "You're the selfish one! I'm trying to save your life you stupid idiot! Don't you get what it'll do to me and dad and mom and grandpa and Boney and to everybody else if you die?!"

"So what if I do?" Claus demanded. "I bet you can ask your 'friend' the Dragon to bring me back. Or better yet, change everyone's memories so that nobody has to be sad. They can all go about their happy little lives thinking nothing bad has ever happened. You want us to think this is real, but it's not! Everyone here is stuck in a make-believe land where nothing could ever go wrong. No wonder they can't handle it when bad things do happen."

"Get over yourself!" Lucas fired back. "If you want to throw a tantrum because no one asked your permission before they brought you back to life then go right ahead, but you're not going to convince me to let you die again!"

"If you're not going to help, then stay out of the way!" Claus shouted with a note of finality. "Duster? Kumatora? I'm coming with you. We're gonna put an end to this Dragon together."

The thief and the princess exchanged glances that reflected their shared uncertainty. They hadn't counted on Claus wanting to join them on their quest.

"No you aren't!" Lucas hissed.

"Try and stop me."

"Hold up," Kumatora interjected before things got out of hand. "We're not taking you anywhere."

Claus's nostrils flared. "Don't treat me like a kid, dammit! I'm strong! I can fight! And I'm going whether you like it or not!"

"We all know you're strong," Duster assured him. "But for now it's more important that you stay here."

"I can help though!" he pleaded.

"Like you helped after mom died?" Lucas asked sadly.

The blonde should have known saying that would get under his brother's skin. Maybe that was exactly what he intended. Either way, it got a reaction. Claus's vision clouded over and he lunged at Lucas with a furious shout. He scarcely made it two steps before a wave of tingling washed over his entire body and his feet buckled beneath him. His every muscles seized up and he went tumbling forward right into Lucas, knocking both boys to the ground beneath the redhead's momentum. Duster reached out instinctively and Boney jumped back in surprise. Only Kumatora remained unfazed by the sudden end to the confrontation; she was the one who had struck the boy with paralysis, after all.

"Claus!" Lucas shouted as he tried to examine his brother while still pinned underneath him. The confusion of the moment quickly faded and Lucas saw that Claus, although stiff as a board and clearly startled, was still conscious.

"Duster and I are going," Kumatora said as she stepped over the boys and looked down at them. "You two are staying here. Capiche?"

Struggling and failing to turn and look at the woman, Claus could only growl in response. This was humiliating. Even without being able to look at Kumatora he knew she was enjoying this. Lucas, on the other hand, kept his attention on his brother without even acknowledging the princess.

"Good enough," she said with a firm nod before turning back to Duster. "You ready to go?"

"Whenever you are," he answered, sparing a concerned look for the boys. "Will they be okay?"

"It'll wear off in a few minutes," Kumatora explained nonchalantly. "Think of it as a much-needed time out."

"Wait," Lucas finally spoke up again as he struggled to free himself. "Please! You can't stop the Dragon. If you do I'll lose Claus and my mom all over again!"

"You don't know what'll happen, kid," Kumatora told him plainly. Of course she didn't either. For that matter she didn't know whether the Dragon even could be stopped. She had to try though.

"We should hurry," Duster noted. "I don't want to be here when Claus starts shooting lightning."

"Let's move out then. See you later, boys! Try and stay out of trouble." She gave them both a little wave as she started jogging out of town with Duster hot on her heels.

Claus seethed, struggling in vain against his immobilized body but ultimately powerless to do anything but glare into his brother's scarf. For his part, Lucas was just glad that Claus was still with him, although his effortless defeat did leave him with bright red cheeks.

Boney hovered over the blonde and gave a pitiful whine before licking him on the face. "(Sorry, Lucas.)"

Reaching up to scratch the dog on the neck, Lucas answered: "Me too, buddy."


	35. My Brother's Keeper

Closing his eyes, Lucas sucked in a deep breath and slowly let it out as he counted down.

Five. Kumatora was right: things got heated and he needed a time-out.

Four. So did Claus.

Three. As long as the Dragon was safe, so was his family.

Two. For now, he had to focus on his brother.

One. Nothing else mattered.

"Claus? Can you hear me?" Lucas asked calmly.

Claus growled in response, still unable to move from atop his younger twin. As furious as he was at Kumatora for putting him in this position, the only one around to take out his frustrations on was Lucas.

"I'm gonna heal you," the blonde assured him. "But you have to promise me something first. Okay?"

"Ngh-hnnn?" Claus grunted cautiously, suspecting he wasn't going to like whatever promise his brother coerced out of him.

"It's nothing bad," Lucas reassured him. "Just promise you're not going to run away or go after Duster and Kumatora or do anything stupid. I want to talk this out like grown-ups. Deal?"

Mulling over the request, Claus knew didn't have to agree. He could wait out the rest of this paralysis and he'd be mobile again in a few minutes. Or he could simply say yes and then break the pact as soon as Lucas held up his end of the bargain. Whatever he did next, though, he wasn't going to put up with this for one second longer. "D-d-deal."

A jolt shot up Claus's spine and his muscles relaxed all at once. Aching like he'd climbed a mountain, the redhead wearily rolled off his brother and onto his back, breathing heavily now that he was free to. Boney jumped at the opportunity to lick his face until Claus pushed the slobbering beast away.

For his own part, Lucas sat upright and gingerly rubbed the back of his head. He winced when his fingers found a large welt from where he landed. "You okay?" he asked his brother reticently.

Claus frowned slightly; although it was a relief to be able to move again, he wasn't so keen to talk just yet. "Fine," he answered after a few tense seconds. "You?"

Lucas grimaced as he felt the bump again. "Been better," he admitted while using his PSI to recover from the bump to the back of his skull.

Claus looked over at his brother while the blonde was distracted. Despite everything, he felt bad about hurting him, even inadvertently. The sensation was all too familiar.

How many times had he been down this road before? He wasn't sure he wanted to know. Acting in the heat of the moment came so naturally to him, but all too often he'd wind up regretting it soon after, usually because he'd get himself or – even worse – someone else hurt. This time was no different, and as much as he hoped to change things he worried the lesson wouldn't stick any better this time than it had all the others.

The redhead rolled away again to face Boney, who sat patiently beside his humans. "I didn't have to keep my promise, y'know," Claus blurted out. "So why'd you heal me?"

"I figured you would anyway," Lucas said with a slight nod.

"Idiot," Claus groused, huddling into a ball. It would serve his brother right if he did storm off after Duster and Kumatora – either to force them to take him along or to get some payback. He didn't though. Even if his head was telling him to get moving, his body wouldn't listen. "How come?" he asked after an uncomfortably long pause.

Lucas absentmindedly rubbed his hands together, looking at them instead of at his twin. He knew he'd screwed up by not telling Claus about the Dragon's heart earlier; the guilt had weighed heavily on his mind for quite some time. "Because I trust you," he confessed.

Those words cut deep for Claus, who'd lost his faith in both his brother and in himself. It was his turn to feel the weight of guilt crushing down on him, leaving him grasping for a reply that never came.

After checking himself over for any more injuries, the silence proved too much for Lucas to bear and he spoke up again. "You wanna talk?"

"Not really," Claus grumbled, still stinging with shame.

". . . Oh," Lucas replied dejectedly.

With a heavy sigh, Claus relented. "Fine," he said. "But you have to make a promise to me."

It seemed like a fair request to Lucas. "Sure! Anything," he agreed.

"You know how you called me out on what I did after mom died?" Even facing away as he was, the tightened muscles in his back and the low tenor of his voice soaked Claus's words in unmistakable anger. "Never, _ever_ do that again."

"S-sorry," Lucas apologized quietly. "I know it must be a sore subject."

Claus turned his head back toward his brother and glared at him through one open eye. "You think?"

"I swear I'll never bring it up again." Lucas solemnly held a hand over his heart to drive the point home. "It's just that, um . . ."

"I deserved it, right?" As much as it hurt to admit, Lucas was completely in the right to bring it up. He was acting stupid again and he knew it; he didn't need somebody else to point it out as well.

"No, not that," Lucas tried placating his brother. "But I sorta wanted to know something, if you don't mind saying."

Easing up, Claus waved his brother on. "Spit it out."

"Why didn't you let me come with you?" Lucas inquired.

"Because you were . . . you," Claus told him with a hitch in his throat. "Back then you were such a mama's boy. I don't think you'd have ever left her side if you could help it."

"Oh," Lucas frowned. "So you figured I couldn't help."

"It's not that," Claus tried to explain. "It's just . . . if you came along you could get hurt. Mom was always telling me to watch out for you. I wasn't gonna let her down." The boy took a breath and sat up to look at his brother through sorrow-filled eyes. "Mom was gone. Dad got thrown in jail. I didn't want to lose you too." He'd had plenty of time to reflect on the irony of that decision.

"How do you think _I_ felt?" Lucas asked pointedly. "When dad and grandpa came home without you, I wanted to curl up and die." Losing his mother had been the worst day of Lucas's young life, but the very next day still managed to top it. "I blamed myself. Still do. It doesn't matter how much everyone said I couldn't stop you, or there was no way I could know, or I was just a kid. It doesn't help. Everything that happened was because of me. So if you want to blame me for whatever the Dragon does now then go right ahead. I'm used to it."

"It's my fault, not yours," Claus countered. "I know I should've gone to mom's grave with you and grandpa instead of running off after the dragos, but I can't change what happened. Reminding me of the worst mistake of my whole life won't help."

Lucas ground his heels in the dirt. "At least Kumatora kept you from making the same mistake today."

Claus narrowed his eyes. "So when I try to save the world it's a mistake, but when you do it you're a hero? You might be stronger than me, Lucas, but that doesn't mean I'm weak." Ever since that night in the castle, Claus had known that Lucas passed him by. Even so, saying it out loud still made him cringe. "I'm not the same dumb kid I was back then."

"So what was your plan, huh? Were you gonna wander around in the woods and hope to trip over the Dragon's tail or something?" Reflecting on his own journey, Lucas knew he wasn't any better prepared and had even less direction sometimes, but he stuck to his guns. "Where were you gonna sleep? What would you eat?"

Claus rolled his neck and stretched his back muscles. "I could've figured something out," he grunted.

"What about your meds?" Lucas persisted. "It's not like there's a twenty-four hour pharmacy in the volcano."

"I'd be fine," Claus asserted. "I feel better."

"That's because they're working, not because you're 'fixed' or anything," Lucas reminded him. "How long would you last without them? You could spend years looking for the Dragon and never find it."

"Well at least I'd be doing something," Claus snapped.

Lucas grimaced as he took the comment personally. "I've done _plenty_ , Claus. None of us would even be here if I didn't do something."

"I know that!" the redhead defended himself. "You went through hell trying to clean up the mess I made. I can't blame you for wanting to stop now, but at least let me try and make up for what I did. I want to help for once in my stupid life."

"Sometimes the best thing you can do is nothing," Lucas insisted. "Why can't you understand that? You're always in such a rush to do anything that you never take the time to figure out what the right thing is."

"So what if I don't always do what's right?" Claus asked. "I can still tell what's wrong. You might not want to admit it, but you're acting like Porky."

Lucas hung his head in shame. "I'm not a dummy, Claus. I know that taking away everyone's memories was wrong. The only reason why I'm not out there with Kumatora and Duster right now is because I'm trying to save you and mom. If that makes me the bad guy, then . . . I guess I'm the bad guy."

"That's exactly why I have to do something, Lucas. I'm not gonna let you be a bad guy. You might be trying to save me and mom, but I'm trying to save you."

"Who asked you to?"

"I'm your big brother, dammit," Claus growled. "Looking out for you is my job. It doesn't matter how old you get or how much stronger than me you are; it'll always be my job."

Lucas hunched forward and pouted. "Even if you wind up getting yourself killed for it?"

Claus finally stood up on unsteady legs and gave his brother a pitying look. Sometimes it seemed to him that all he could see of his twin was their differences, but in that moment he saw how very similar they really were. Shaking his head, Claus clicked his tongue and said, "We are so messed up."

Lucas looked up at his twin. "Huh?"

"How long are we gonna go back and forth like this?" Claus asked. "Remember at the last Needle when you wouldn't fight back no matter how much I hurt you?"

Lucas hugged his knees to his chest, recalling the painful memory. He could almost still feel the tears running down his cheeks; he hadn't cried so much since his mother died. ". . . Yeah."

Claus reached down to pat Boney's head. "You'd rather die than hurt me. And I did die to make sure you'd survive. Now here we are again."

Lucas let out a short, almost shameful laugh. As sad as it was, there was a grim humor in how they were constantly trying to sacrifice themselves to save the other. "You're right. That is messed up."

"I guess mom set quite an example," Claus lamented.

"That she did," Lucas concurred sorrowfully. "Tell you what: if you stop getting hurt, then I won't have to save you and you won't have to save me from saving you. Sound good?"

"That goes both ways," Claus warned his brother. "If you don't want me trying to help you, then you've gotta stop acting like Porky."

"Claus, listen to me," Lucas pleaded. "I understand that Porky hurt you a lot, and it must suck knowing you'll never have a chance to get back at him, but I'm not Porky. The Dragon isn't Porky. Porky's gone. You don't have to keep fighting him."

Perhaps his brother was right, Claus thought to himself. Maybe he was chasing shadows, but even if that was the case he didn't know how to stop. "Fine. You're not Porky. But so what?" he asked. "The Dragon still needs to be stopped. I don't want that kind of power in anybody's hands."

"That power's what brought you back to life," Lucas reminded him. "For all we know it's the only thing keeping you alive."

"Give me a little more credit than that," Claus scoffed. "I'm not about to turn to dust or whatever just because we get rid of some big, dumb lizard. I didn't think you were still such a scaredy-cat."

"Yes, I'm scared," Lucas confessed. "You should be too. Maybe you're okay playing fast and loose with your own life, but what about mom's?"

Claus gritted his teeth at the thought of losing his mother again. "I'm doing this for her as much as you, Lucas. She taught us to always do the right thing even if it was scary. Of course I'm afraid. I'm sure mom was too when she saved us from the drago. I'm not gonna let that stop me from doing what's right any more than she did."

"Are you sure you're right, though? Are you so sure that you'd stake yours, mom's, and everyone else's lives on it? Because if you're wrong about this, then trying to save me might end up getting all of us killed."

Claus bit his tongue. He was right – he was certain of it – but it wouldn't be the first time he'd been proven wrong.

"I'm begging you, Claus," Lucas pleaded. "Don't be so hasty this one time. Stop and think about this before you do anything rash. Really think about it."

". . . Fine," Claus huffed. "But if I have to think about it then so do you. Once I've thought it over, I want you to be able to say what the right thing is and why, and we're going to do that no matter how scary it is. Deal?" He reached down to help his brother to his feet.

Taking hold of Claus's hand, Lucas smiled and nodded. "Deal."

* * *

[A/N: Just wanted to drop a quick apology for the sporadic updates, but some things have split my attention lately. Thanks to everyone for sticking with me as we spiral towards the end of this story.]


	36. Boys' Night

Even hours after the end of the day's work the huge furnace in the corner of the room was still hot enough to make the air inside stifling. The embers within glowed a faint red in the dim lamplight. In the dead of winter it was a nice way to stave off the bitter cold, but as the days grew longer and the evenings warmer the sweltering heat and acrid fumes of the smithy proved unbearable by day and just barely tolerable in the evening. Metal shavings clung to every surface like the shedding of some unseen ferrous feline while the detritus of a dozen half-finished projects cluttered the workshop, along with all the usual mess that accompanies a living space. Amidst it all there sat a small wooden table surrounded by four seated men.

"Three of a kind," Thomas announced proudly as he place his cards face-up for the others to see.

Lighter cursed under his breath and he tossed his cards in the pile.

"Looks like you win this one," Bronson conceded. "Better watch yourself, neighbor. Too many more hand like that and we might start to think you're cheating us."

"Nonsense!" Thomas guffawed as he scooped the small pile of wooden poker chips toward himself. "You know I'm not good enough to cheat."

"You got that right," Lighter nodded, his pride stinging over the loss. "Well c'mon. Let's go again."

"This'll be my last hand for tonight," Flint said as he gathered up the cards from the table and started shuffling them, his fingers sliding easily over the worn set of playing cards.

"Bowing out already, huh?" Bronson asked. "Can't blame you with your luck."

"What's the rush?" Lighter inquired. "It's barely even been an hour. Who knows when we'll have another chance to get together like this?"

"Gotta get home," Flint shrugged as he tapped the cards into place and began to deal.

Lighter cocked an eyebrow at his old friend's excuse as he tossed his ante into the center. "Have a little faith in Hinawa, Flint. I'm sure she can hold down the fort for one evening without you."

"Yeah, stick around," Thomas urged him. "I know looking at our ugly mugs might not be your favorite thing in the world, but you've gotta let yourself have some fun now and then. I know I get a little stir-crazy when it's just myself and the missus and the kids stuck inside over a long winter."

"I'm here, ain't I?" Flint pointed out. "Can't stay out until the crack of dawn anymore, though. I'm no spring chicken."

"No more than the rest of us," Bronson nodded, "but a few more hands won't kill you."

"I reckon it's because you're losing," Lighter said with a smirk. "Back in the day you'd keep the rest of us up to all hours whenever you were on a hot-streak."

"Mm-hmm," Flint grunted. "And how long ago was 'back in the day'?"

Lighter waved his hand dismissively. "I don't like to put a number on it."

Flint smiled, giving a soft snort at his friend's thinly-disguised vanity. "Must've been a good fifteen years since we had a game like that."

Lighter cringed to himself. He didn't want to think about it, but it really had been that long. Time had slipped by him with hardly a thought, its passage only caught in the peripheral vision of his mind's eye. "Hard to believe," he sighed.

"Sure is," Bronson grumbled. "Used to have a weekly game going. Then you lot went and started sowin' your seeds every which way you could."

"Yeah, we did kinda leave you all by your lonesome, Bronson," Lighter affirmed regretfully. "But it was no picnic for any of us, either. Lots of sleepless nights I'd like back."

"The joys of fatherhood . . ." Thomas mused as he smoothed his moustache. "You spend your youth figuring out how to get the things you need and then you have to learn which ones you can live without."

"Y'know you just might be the smartest sonofagun here, Bronson," Lighter continued. "What I wouldn't give to be a dumb twenty-something with no responsibilities again. Gimme three." He tossed a few of his cards in the pile and motioned to Flint.

"You're better off as a dumb forty-something," Thomas assured him.

"Thirty-something," Lighter corrected his friend tersely. "At least for now."

"Careful, Lighter," Bronson cautioned him with a chortle. "'For now' can become 'back in the day' in the blink of an eye. Two for me, Flint."

"You got it," Flint nodded, dealing two fresh cards to the blacksmith.

"C'mon, I can't be alone in this," Lighter persisted. "Flint, you of all people must miss the good ol' days, back when you had a full head of hair and nerves of steel. Always going on about how you were gonna be the sheriff around these parts someday, never mind that we've never had any need of one and our jail's sat empty since it was built. You'd strut around town with that old Courage Badge of yours like the cock of the walk, chasing off whatever stray dogs or garden snakes were making trouble."

A wry smile cracked through Flint's rugged exterior. "Well, maybe I do miss it a bit. How about you?" he wondered. "You ever miss the days when you tried to one-up me at every turn?"

"Can't say I remember that," Lighter scoffed. Sure, he'd been competitive like any boy that age, but Flint was blowing things out of proportion.

"Mm-hmm," Flint nodded, his smile getting wider. "Whatever you say. Not like I took to swinging a stick so you had to lug around a log to prove a point."

The guffaws from Bronson and Thomas rattled Lighter's cool demeanor. "You playing or not, Thomas?" he asked.

Thomas wrinkled his nose. "Gimme a minute. I'm thinking. There's a lot riding on this hand, you know."

Bronson rolled his eyes at that. "Just take some cards already. Staring at 'em won't turn the bupkis you've got into something worth playing."

"See, that's your problem," Thomas said slyly. "You're in too much of a hurry for this game. Poker's all about strategy. You've gotta outthink the other guy. If you rush you'll lose your shirt."

"I like a game plan as much as the next guy," Flint assured him, "but if you don't take some cards this really will turn into one of those all-night games we used to have."

"Fine! Gimme four," Thomas said in a huff.

"Four!" Bronson cackled, slapping his table and kicking up his feet. "I knew you didn't have squat. 'Strategy' my eye."

"Four it is," Flint said impatiently as he dealt the cards to the shopkeeper. "And two for me, while I'm at it."

Lighter shook his head. "Settle down, Flint," he said. "The wife and kids aren't going anywhere."

"Yeah, yeah," Flint nodded. "That's the hope, at least."

"Heh. Yeah . . ." Lighter gave a half-hearted chuckle, realizing his faux pas too late.

Bronson and Thomas likewise shied away from the sudden tension in the air. They did their best to move past it, clearing their throats or sniffling, but none of them actually spoke. They were all familiar with the close call Flint's sons had in the river a few months earlier, but Lighter felt the sting more keenly than the others. He hadn't always been a single father.

Painfully aware of the discomfort all around him, Flint finally spoke up. "Besides, if I stay out too late Hinawa'll give me an earful."

"Lisa's the same," Thomas added, thankful for the change of topic. "You two are lucky you don't have to deal with that. A woman would throw a fit if she saw the way you keep this place, Bronson."

"I keep this place just fine," Bronson sneered. "Besides, I wouldn't talk if I was you. We've all seen the state of the bazaar."

"You can find whatever you're looking for, can't you?" Thomas retorted. "It's all those kids of mine anyway. I break my back running things and bringing in fresh merchandise all the time; you'd think the least they could do to earn the roof I put over their heads is sweep up."

"Those're kids for you," Lighter grumbled. "Fuel's the same way. I swear that boy was built lazy."

"Were you any different at that age?" Flint asked.

"Of course I was," Lighter snorted. "I worked my fingers to the bone."

"Sure you did," Flint chuckled. "How many times did I catch you fast asleep under some tree when you were supposed to be chopping wood?"

Thinking back, Lighter realized that he may not have recalled those halcyon days with crystal clarity. Not to say he didn't put in hard work – in fact he still had the scars and calluses to prove as much – but goofing off was something he got very good at in his youth. "I don't want that boy picking up any bad habits," he explained. "The last thing I need is for him to take after me. Here I was hoping those boys of yours might rub off on him, Flint, but I don't know anymore. Whatever you've got going doesn't seem to be contagious."

Flint couldn't keep from laughing at that; as proud a papa as he was, he never considered his boys to be especially hard workers. "You sure you're not thinking of somebody else's kids?"

"No, he's telling the truth," Thomas backed up Lighter's account. "You must be doing something right with those two. Claus is up and about before the rooster half the time. And as for Lucas, we can all tell he's Hinawa's son. Respectful, y'know? Mike even says he hears from Lucas more than Nichol and Richie."

"Mike says a lot of things," Flint noted with a cockeyed smirk.

"True, but I'd still believe it," Bronson nodded. "That boy used to be so shy. I reckon he got that from you, Flint, but he's started to take after that brother of his. Even ol' 'beanstalk' Leder seems to've taken a shine to him."

Lighter clicked his tongue. "I don't know how you do it, Flint. One good kid I could call a fluke, but you're two for two. What's your secret?"

As intoxicating as his friends' praise was, Flint knew it was undeserved. He liked to think of himself as a devoted father, but in the eyes of his sons he'd failed spectacularly. Lucas had practically raised himself for years. Claus had it far worse. For all the good things his friends had to say, none of them knew about the troubles hidden from public scrutiny, the things that only family ever saw in one another. Still, recent experience with both of his sons had taught Flint one lesson that he wanted to pass on. "I just do what I can and hope it works out. Sometimes it does, other times not, but if there's one thing that'll help, it's knowing how to shut up and listen."

Bronson chuckled to himself. "Figures your advice would be to keep your trap shut, Flint."

"Probably better if nobody takes my advice to heart," Flint acknowledged. "To be honest, I don't have a clue what I'm doing most of the time."

"Same here," Lighter agreed. "You get into a routine easy enough, but I'm still making it up as I go along."

"No kidding," Bronson laughed. "And here I thought kids came with an instruction manual."

"No such luck," Thomas huffed. "And don't you think I didn't check around for one."

"Sounds pretty rough," Bronson nodded. "I gotta say, you're not making me jealous. At least being a blacksmith I can say I know what I'm doing and I'm damn good at it."

"Not to mention even if you do screw something up you can always fix it," Lighter pointed out. "That's a lot harder to do with a kid."

Flint sighed. "You said it."

"Kids are pretty good at bouncing back, though," Thomas noted. "There's not much you can't fix with a little elbow grease."

"You think?" Lighter wondered.

"We've made it this far, haven't we?" Thomas asked. "A bunch of little mistakes – or even a few big ones – aren't the end of the world."

"You're right about that," Flint agreed thoughtfully. "You haven't failed 'til you stop trying."

"Alright, enough flapping your gums," Bronson interrupted. "We're here to play cards. Who's in?"

Thomas tossed his hand down unceremoniously. "Fold," he announced in annoyance.

"Anyone else?" Flint asked, pausing for a few seconds while the other men stared back at him. "Well alright then. Show 'em."

Lighter went first. "Pair of eights," he announced, holding his cards up for the others to see.

"Damn," Bronson growled, dropping his cards in front of himself to reveal a pair of sixes.

"Good hand, Lighter," Flint nodded approvingly. "That'd beat my pair of twos."

Lighter laughed and reached for the pot. "Bad luck, eh?"

". . . But not these fives," Flint finished his thought with a soft snicker, placing his cards down in front of him to show off his two pair.

Lighter withdrew his hand, shaking his head and grimacing at his friend's trickery. "And you say _I_ had to one-up _you_."

"There's always next time," Flint said as he stood up, stretching and grunting under the strain of a long day and a lot of years. Even if nights like this one were fewer and farther between, the cowboy was grateful for them all the same. This was one of the few chances he had to remember what it was like to be young and catch up with old friends.

"You know I'll be here if you will," Lighter assured him. "Whenever that might be."

Flint smiled and tipped his hat. "Wouldn't miss it."


	37. Lighter and the Art of Listening

Scattered clouds grown heavy with unfallen rain lingered overhead, the last vestiges of a long winter finally cast off. All around the sounds of resumed life hummed a chaotic melody: frogs hopping and croaking and groaning as they emerged from their muddy riverbeds, eager to save the world in their own special way; sparrows setting about their nest building too early, ever ready to dispense advice but rarely able to follow it; mice scrabbling about out of sight, some of them laden with cheese and trying to hide that fact from those that weren't. The word on the wind was there as well, restlessly rustling the trees and tall grasses with its useful tutorials on photosynthesis and other such vital instructions for plants. Even the ants, nearly invisible amidst the unkempt undergrowth of the Sunshine Forest, thronged to their own unheard song.

One such line of ants marched beneath the drooping eyes of one of the forest's more exotic residents: Fuel the human boy. Sitting upon a nearly petrified tree stump, axe set aside and his chin cupped in his hands, he casually observed the miniscule creatures going about their business while his mind hovered somewhere in the far reaches of space, undisturbed by the world at his fingertips. Even the sudden addition of a new melody to the chorus all around him scarcely registered until it became too insistent to ignore.

"Fuel!"

". . . Huh?"

"I said I need you to head into town," Lighter reiterated.

"Oh. Sure." Fuel nodded passively.

Well aware that he hadn't been heard, Lighter spoke slowly. "Take these axes to Bronson's," he said, setting two of them down on the stump next to the boy. "That one you're using, too. They all need sharpening and we can't lose a whole day's work on doing it ourselves."

"Uh-huh," Fuel acquiesced. "Got'cha. Axes."

"And bring back something for lunch," Lighter went on, slapping his belly to drive the point home. "This is hungry work."

"Sure thing," Fuel said as he forced himself to his feet, the forest's spell over him finally flaking away as he reached down to gather up the tools.

Lighter turned away, the lumber propped against his shoulder swinging wide as he did so, but stopped midway and regarded his son curiously. Normally the boy would have been overjoyed to get away from work and visit Tazmily, but his typical exuberance was nowhere to be found behind his eyes today. "You feeling alright?"

"Yeah."

Although he was unconvinced, Lighter was prepared to let it go. If Fuel didn't want to talk then so be it. But then Flint's advice echoed up from the back of Lighter's mind and gave him pause. Perhaps he hadn't been as attentive as he ought to. "Something bothering you?"

Trying to hold onto all three axes at once, Fuel was caught off-guard by the question. "Huh?"

"You seem a little out of it," Lighter noted, keeping his tone neutral.

"It's nothing. I was . . . never mind." Fuel shook his head dismissively and gave a disarming smile.

Lighter rubbed the stubble on his chin contemplatively. It was pretty clear to him that the boy had something on his mind, but he wasn't sure if he should press the issue or leave him be. After all, it wouldn't do to get into a fight over nothing. "I can get Bud to do it if you'd rather keep working," he offered. "But I thought you might want to see Angie. It's been a little while, hasn't it?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Fuel asked, backing off ever so slightly.

"Don't want you to forget how to bake, is all," Lighter shrugged, mirroring his son's smile. "You might as well know how to do something worthwhile."

Snorting softly at his father's sorry attempt at humor, Fuel echoed it back. "Yeah, well it's better than chopping wood. The last thing I'd want is to turn into you."

Lighter guffawed at the all-too-familiar sentiment. "I think you're a little short to worry about that, pipsqueak."

"Laugh it up while you can, old man," Fuel scoffed proudly, his mouth creased in a self-assured smirk while he held the axes over his shoulder in the same way his father lugged around lumber. "It won't be so funny in a year or two when I'm taller than you."

Whistling as if impressed, Lighter raised his eyebrows at his son. "A year or two, huh? That's a pretty long time, kiddo. You think your voice will stop cracking by then?"

"My voice doesn't crack!" Naturally, Fuel's body picked that very moment to disprove his point. He looked away to sulk, the axes he was carrying swinging around as he did so. "Whatever."

Chuckling to himself, Lighter clapped a hand down on the boy's empty shoulder. "Don't worry: I'm sure Angie doesn't notice."

"Psh. Like I care what she thinks."

"No?" Lighter asked, not entirely believing the boy's claims as he checked for a rosy hue emerging on Fuel's cheeks. "And here I thought winter was over, but it feels like it just got cooler out here."

"You know it," Fuel said with a toothy grin.

"Alright stud, you be your own man," Lighter told him. "One word of advice though: girls like it when guys care."

Craning his neck back around to catch his father's eye, Fuel wasn't about to let the old man off without getting in an easy jab at his ego. "No offense, but if I want advice on girls I'll ask somebody who's talked to one."

"Joke all you want, but I know plenty. You wouldn't be here if I didn't," Lighter reminded him.

Fuel winced at the intrusive implication. "Gross, dad!"

"Heh heh. You're too easy, Fuel." Lighter gave him a playful jostle, glad to see his son's usual breeziness returning. "But hey, if you ever do want advice you can come to me any time."

"Hmph." Fuel turned his nose up at the invitation without a second thought. It was something Lighter had grown to expect – reminding him too much of himself at that age. Fuel was self-assured in a way only a boy on the cusp of manhood can be, certain he already knew everything worth knowing.

"C'mon, now," Lighter prodded gently. "I think you'll find I give darn good advice." Maybe it was inspiration from Flint, or maybe he secretly missed the days when his only son would follow him everywhere, pestering him with endless questions, but Lighter was driven to get a real conversation out of the boy for once. In the doldrums of daily living the two rarely took the time for such things.

Fuel replied with a shrug and a half-smile, shifting the axes on his shoulder awkwardly. "I hate to break it to you, but you don't give advice. You give orders."

"I know it might seem like that, but it's part of being a dad," Lighter admitted.

Fuel rolled his eyes and stuffed his free hand into his pocket. "Gee. I didn't know you were _everybody's_ dad," he murmured.

"That's enough sass out of you," Lighter replied sourly.

"Whatever," Fuel shrugged. "It's not like you were gonna listen anyway."

Lighter was ready to scold his son for talking back, but caught himself before the first sound escaped his lips. Maybe Flint was right; he could stand to shut up and hear the boy out once in a while. Sighing, he relaxed his stance and said, "Alright then, mister smart-guy. I'm listening."

Fuel's ears perked up at the unexpected invitation. "Huh?"

Extending a hand in front of himself, Lighter went on. "If you want to say something, then go right ahead."

"Oh. Okay." The boy awkwardly ground the dirt underfoot, expecting some sort of trick. Or perhaps he simply wasn't ready for the conversation to take such a turn and wasn't sure where to go from there.

Looking at Fuel out of the corner of his eye, Lighter suppressed the urge to say something snarky. He was going to prove – if only to himself – that he could listen.

Feeling emboldened by the quiet, Fuel took a deep breath and finally spoke his mind. "I don't wanna be a woodcutter."

Lighter instantly proved to be unable to hold his tongue. "So then what _do_ you want to be?"

Fuel looked away. "I dunno," he admitted meekly.

"Do you want to be a baker?" Lighter asked, trying to spin the conversation in a productive direction. "Goodness knows you've spent enough time with Caroline and Angie . . ."

"Maybe," Fuel shrugged. "Or something else."

"Well you can't goof off all day long," Lighter reminded him.

"Gee, thanks," the boy scoffed sarcastically. "I figured that much out on my own."

"You'll have to do better than that," Lighter pushed back, subconsciously squeezing the piece of lumber he carried. "I'm doing my best to show you the ropes, but chopping trees, making furniture, fixing houses . . . that's all I know. If you want to do something else, I can't help you."

"I'm not asking you to fix my problems or tell me what to do!" Fuel snapped. "All I want is for you to hear what I'm saying."

Squinting beneath a furrowed brow, Lighter rolled his shoulders. "Fixing's what I do," he explained calmly. "I'm not the sort of fella to sit on his hands when something needs doing."

Fuel sighed, already kicking himself for starting this conversation when he knew it wouldn't do him any good. "Well maybe certain things should stay broken for a while. The only way for somethin' to get fixed is for it to break first, right?"

"You sure that's not just being lazy?"

"I dunno," he answered with a halfhearted shrug.

Defeated, Fuel eased his payload back down, leaning against one of the axes for support. Neither father nor son were willing to meet the other's gaze, preferring instead the company of their own thoughts. Perhaps they had both made mistakes in having this talk now. Whether it would have been better to put it off forever or to have done it long ago, neither could say. Meanwhile, the forest and its many creatures big and small hummed along to their tuneless song.

"Y'know, I really am doing my best," Lighter finally grumbled.

"Yeah."

"It's not easy being a dad," the man persisted.

"Hey, it's not like everything's all sunshine and rainbows for me."

"No, I suppose not." As much as he might trivialize the problems of youth in his own mind, a piece of Lighter's soul still remembered how much bigger those troubles seemed to him once upon a time. ". . . And it won't get any easier."

"I get where you're coming from." Fuel had spent a lot of quiet days fantasizing how much better life would be when he was on his own, but he'd come to realize that it was only half true. Every passing birthday had brought with it an ever-expanding list of responsibilities; every inch he grew meant more burdens on his shoulders. "Sorry if I'm making things harder on you."

"It's okay, kiddo," Lighter told his son with admittedly diminished enthusiasm. "I know you don't mean to. Besides, if it helps make things easier on you, then I can take it. That's also part of being a dad."

"I just wish I knew what I wanted," Fuel groaned.

"I think—" Lighter caught himself mid-sentence. "Actually, it doesn't matter what I think. It's your decision."

"But what if I never figure it out?"

Reaching out again to clasp a hand on his son's shoulder, Lighter gave him a reassuring smile. "You will. Give it time. Just because you don't know the answer right now doesn't mean you won't later. Shoot, sometimes there might not even be an answer."

"You always seem to have one," Fuel pointed out, poorly mimicking his father's smile with a less confident version.

"Well . . . when you've got people counting on you, you might need to act like you've got a handle on things even when you don't," Lighter confessed.

Fuel's meager smile broadened into a genuine grin and he met his father's eyes again. "Heh. Really?"

"Don't get any smart ideas," Lighter warned the boy. "I know exactly what I'm doing for the most part."

"Okay, okay. I'm glad it's not just me, though." Knowing that much still made Fuel feel lighter on his feet and took some of the weight off the axe his was leaning on.

"Trust me, it's not just you. Nobody's got it all figured out. They might pretend like they do, but they don't."

"I do feel a little better knowing that."

"Then I guess I've done my job." It may not have been the eye-opening experience he'd hoped for, but Lighter felt better all the same. The tension between him and his son finally had a bit of slack in it again.

"Huh. Maybe you're not so bad at advice after all," Fuel shrugged.

"Nah. You were right in the first place. I'm just winging it," Lighter chortled.

Shaking his head and sharing in the laughter, Fuel added: "Could've fooled me."

"Well you _are_ too easy," the man repeated.

"Yeah right." Fuel collected the axes up onto his shoulder again, pondering his impending trip into town. But rather than heading off he lingered a few seconds longer, biting his lip as the nagging question in the back of his mind demanded to be heard. He was finally ready to give into it. "So, um . . . since you're giving out advice and stuff, can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"Not for me or nothin'," the boy added hastily.

"Of course not."

"It's about a friend."

"Right," Lighter nodded.

Swallowing nervously, Fuel turned and looked off into the woods. "What, uh . . . what's a guy supposed to do when somebody likes him?"

Quick to hide his amusement, Lighter cleared his throat and stroked the stubble on his chin. "Well now, that depends," he answered slowly. "Does this friend of yours like that somebody back?"

"I dunno."

By this point, Lighter didn't know what other answer to expect from the boy. "Well that does make things tricky. In that case I guess the best a man can do is be honest."

"How am – is he supposed to be honest if he doesn't know?"

"He could always admit as much," Lighter suggested. "No guarantees it won't hurt somebody's feelings, but there's not a whole lot you can do about that."

Fuel scowled in disappointment. "Well that sucks. I don't want anyone to get hurt."

"Of course you don't: you're a good kid," Lighter told him with an uncharacteristically soft smile. "But even if somebody did wind up with a broken heart, it could be for the best. Maybe some things do need to get broken, if only so they can get fixed up better than new. Don't you think?"

"Yeah. I guess." Feeling his face heating up, Fuel quickly turned toward the path into town. "Thanks. I'll, uh . . . tell him what you said."

"Be sure you do."

"What, um . . ." Fuel coughed. "What do you want for lunch?"

"Surprise me," Lighter replied before heading back to work.


	38. Do Chimeras Dream of Reconstructed Sheep

The unmade bed called out to Claus through the darkened room. "Soon enough," he thought to himself as he slipped on his pajama top. He caught a whiff of something wild and paused to sniff under his arm, disappointed to find a distinctive sheepy scent still clinging to his skin despite the long bath. He couldn't be too surprised by it though – after spending the whole day shearing sheep with his dad and Lucas it was a wonder he wasn't still picking wool out of every orifice.

No matter how relieved the sheep were to be rid of their winter coats, Claus always dreaded shearing days. Every last little thing the sheep stepped in seemed to work its way deeper and deeper into their wool over the course of the winter, giving them an odor that the boy had often tried and failed to put into words. He'd settled on "funktacular" for a while, but "putridiculous" had started to grow on him lately. It wouldn't have been so bad if the three of them didn't have to hold the sheep down to shear them. Plus the way loose wool would fill the air like dandelion spores didn't help. And that was without getting to how they still had to wash and dry and sort through it all. What a pain.

Needless to say, Claus was completely exhausted. He could scarcely keep his eyes peeled through the (admittedly awesome) dinner his mom had made to reward her "big strong men" for their hard work. As he flopped down onto the squeaky bed, Claus thanked his lucky stars to have it back now that his grandpa had returned home – even if a hint of the old man's aftershave did still linger. As ready as he was to pass out, though, the second he closed his eyes and stuffed his face in his pillow his mind was flooded with the sights and smells of wool stacked to the ceiling and surrounding him on all sides.

Winking one eye open confirmed it to be nothing but an illusion of course, but it was a persistent one. He rolled onto his side, kicked his blankets off, threw his pillow to the floor, anything he could think of. None of it helped. Well the wool would have to wait its turn, he decided. Let his imagination try and suffocate him under a sea of sheep's hair in his sleep if it could. At least it would be a cozy way to go. It may not have been the most comforting of thoughts to hold onto, but it did the trick as the exhaustion clouding his mind inevitably won out and he quietly slipped off to sleep.

Clutching the thick wool in his fist, Claus gradually became aware that it was still attached to a living thing whose warm body waxed and waned with each breath. The giant creature bleated up at him, turning its head just enough to give him a dissatisfied sidelong glance. The beast, which Claus had at first thought to be a giant sheep, had an unmistakably porcine face. The whopper of a chimera was trotting briskly through a dark wood, passing between leafless trees until a clearing opened up before them and Claus beheld their destination.

Sliding down off the chimera's back, the boy looked up at the large, pink seashell before him. The lone spot of light in an otherwise dark world, it compelled the boy forward like a siren's song. He extended his hand out and pressed his fingers to the wooden door, which swung open easily even with a mere feather touch to reveal a bright – some might call it garish – interior decorated in vibrant pink and adorned with balloons, streamers, confetti, and an entire buffet. A banner hung over the entryway welcoming him inside for a party in his honor. As inviting as the whole scene appeared, though, Claus still hung back. Had the door not shut itself behind him he might have turned around. Everything about this place seemed much too large to him, like he was seeing it from a little kid's point of view.

Standing in the center of the room in two rows were six of the Magypsies, lining the way to the throne at the far end of the room where the last of them sat. The first one Claus looked to was Locria, boisterously nwehehe-ing from a full set of brass horns. The others were more or less as he remembered from their brief meeting: Doria and Lydia immediately fawned over him like he was an adorable baby animal while Missy and Phrygia remained aloof and disinterested, the latter even yawning drowsily at his approach. Ionia gave him a knowing smile that reminded him of his grandpa before his vision settled on the back of the room and the Magypsy sitting there: Aeolia. Or rather, it was the person whom he knew to be Aeolia, and yet she was the spitting image of his own mother, wordlessly beckoning him forward. His heart fluttered at the sight of her and he broke into a run, arms outstretched, only to find her getting farther and farther away.

No, that wasn't right. She wasn't getting farther away; she was getting smaller. Or he was getting larger. Larger and greener and meaner. His fingers became claws; his teeth became fangs; his run became a charge. Powerless to stop himself, he lunged forward and snapped his jaws shut over the poor woman. The smell of blood splashed against his snout as he bit down, but instead of the expected spray of red a thousand bright yellow sunflower petals exploded in all directions, blinding him to all but the tinny nwehehe-ing of the horns, which grew louder and shriller and angrier by the second. He shut his eyes and clasped his hands over his ears to try and keep out the cacophonous riot of noise screeching at him from each swirling sunflower petal.

Then he felt a hand on the tip of his monstrous snout and the terrible sound was silenced in an instant. Opening his eyes again, Claus saw light return to the world. Fuel stood in front of him with a great big toothy smile. They were all alone in a grassy field under a bright, sunny sky.

The redhead reached forward with one of his terrible claws and Fuel took hold of it. A smile crossed the monster's gruesome mug as their eyes met, and when he looked down again he realized that he was back to being himself again, the green scales and talons replaced by soft, pink skin. Then he looked down further and realized that he was showing a bit too much such skin. Gasping, Claus covered himself as best as he could, but nothing could save his modesty as Fuel began to howl with laughter.

Except it wasn't Fuel who was laughing. It was someone unseen but all too familiar whose mad cackling quickly turned to coughing, wheezing, choking. How many times had Claus heard that monster gasping for breath and prayed that it would never come? That damnable laugh wormed its way through his brain as it had so many times before, a constant reminder that something which should have died a long, long time ago still refused. His eyes stinging, Claus could only watch as Fuel collapsed in a heap like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

The laughter slowly began to fade away along with everything else. The sky, the field, Fuel – it all sloughed off like mud in a downpour until all that remained was Claus, the darkness, and the figure in front of him. The boy's throat tightened as he found himself face-to-face with the Commander.

Neither one of them made the first move. The chimera wore a blank expression while fixing his gaze firmly on his human counterpart, every muscle and mechanism poised to strike. Short on breath and shaking nervously, Claus was too busy fighting against his own nerves to either advance or retreat, though he flirted with both options.

It was the Commander who eventually made the first move. Bowing his head ever so slightly, he raised his left hand to his helmet and clumsily slid it off to reveal the matted blonde hair beneath. He looked sickly and pale (albeit with a slight rosy tint in his cheeks) and had one of his eyes replaced – not with cybernetic parts like Claus had, but something organic that resembled a cross between the eyes of a lizard and a goat.

The sight of his brother's mangled form finally moved Claus to action. Turning on his heel, he tried to run, but there was nowhere to go. This was wrong. It was all wrong. He shouldn't be here. He couldn't be here. None of this was real. Light began to pour in through the cracked walls of the dream and he felt himself being pulled back into the waking world.

Claus awoke with a start and his eyes shot open, but he was not at home in his bed. He was still in that dark world of the dream, except now he knew it to be just that. The realization that he was aware and awake but still deep inside his own subconscious left him in a stunned silence. Only when he noticed the arms wrapped around his torso in a vise-like grip, one of them with a cannon for a hand, did the panic truly set in.

"Get off me!" Claus stammered, rediscovering his voice. He'd meant it to sound intimidating, but instead came off as terrified even to his own ears. The Commander wasn't keen to do as he was told. "I said let go!" Claus persisted, trying to shove the chimera away.

The Commander kept his cool and said nothing. Neither did he fight back beyond maintaining his iron grip, which was as unflinching as the expression on his face no matter how hard his quarry strained against it.

Claus squirmed and kicked and cried out until he was hoarse and exhausted. Twisting around to look the chimera in the face, Claus saw only dead eyes and pale skin – the same things he'd seen reflected in the mirror many times. He turned away again, feeling sick to his stomach at witnessing Lucas in such a state.

"Stop it!" Claus pleaded, only to be met with more silence. His dreams were bad enough normally, but it was even worse being aware of them and unable to wake up. His thoughts raced, scraping his brain for any idea of what to do but finding none. Defeated, he slumped forward. "What do you want?"

To his surprise the Commander finally responded. Not with words – that would be far too helpful – but by tightening his grip just enough to be certain the boy felt it. Claus gritted his teeth as he felt a growing pressure in his head. The whole world began to throb in time with his heartbeat, smearing the emptiness with a dull red glow that streaked his vision with waving geometric patterns. And then he heard it, speaking as if from a great distance. It wasn't the Commander's voice, but his own. "Is life here really so bad?"

". . . What?"

The light kept fading in and out accompanied by the sound of a beating heart that got louder with every pulse.

"I don't understand!" Claus shouted into the darkness.

He heard his own voice again, creeping into his mind from every direction. "You don't live in that world anymore," it insisted. "You're here with us now. Why is that not enough?"

"Who are you?!" Claus cried out.

The heartbeat grew even louder and the pressure kept building as the boy waited for an answer that was not coming. Instead when the voice returned it asked, "Why do you have to keep picking at this scab?"

Claus growled and threw himself around, hoping it would finally loose the Commander's hold. "Let go, dammit! I want to go home!"

Suddenly Claus realized he was free and lying on his back, but his limbs felt like they weighed a thousand tons each. He could just barely manage to force his eyes open, but when he did he looked up to see Lucas crouched over him with tears dripping off his chin. The vision began to fade and Claus gave his final breath.

In the blink of an eye he was back at the Commander's mercy with the memory of his own words ringing in his ears. "You can't because he's DEAD!"

"What do you want from me?" Claus demanded weakly as the last of his strength waned away.

There was a long stillness before his voice again burbled up from the back of his psyche. "There's a whole world out here," it explained, the gulf between them seeming to grow wider with every word, "and everybody wants you in it."

Claus felt the Commander let go and in an instant he was back in his own bed, sweating and disoriented but awake.

* * *

(This was a weird one. I wanted to evoke the more psychological and psychedelic moments of the Mother series and this is the result. I'm still not sure I pulled it off, but it was a fun challenge and an interesting way to get into Claus's head.)


	39. Stronger

A cool breeze blew through the open window of the normally stuffy clinic, carrying with it the faint scent of flowers. It made Claus long for the outdoors, not that he wouldn't rather be literally anywhere else besides Dr. Andonuts's creepy laboratory. At least he wasn't alone: his mother stayed by his side for these checkups at his insistence. The boy may have come to accept that the good doctor wasn't likely to go lopping off any of his limbs, but that didn't mean he felt comfortable being alone with the man.

Hinawa lingered by the counter while Claus swiveled back and forth on one of the stools when Dr. Andonuts popped his head into the examination room. "Sorry to keep you waiting," he announced. "I had to track these down." The white-haired man held up a bottle and shook it with a satisfying rattle. "So how's my favorite patient doing?" he asked, tossing the pills to the redhead.

Claus remained seated, catching the bottle without too much trouble. "Fine."

"He's feeling a little tired today," Hinawa explained.

Dr. Andonuts cocked his head to the side and looked the boy up and down. "Not sleeping well?" he wondered.

Claus shook his head without meeting the doctor's gaze. "Bad dreams."

Hinawa was wringing her hands when she took a step forward. "Do you think his medication could be causing that, Doc?"

"It's not impossible," Dr. Andonuts intoned as he motioned for the worried mother to settle down. "You're still taking them on schedule, right lad?"

"Yeah," Claus answered with a single nod.

The doctor clicked his tongue and thought for a moment before asking his next question. "Any change in your diet?"

"No." Another shake of the head, another short answer. At least the kid was consistent.

Dr. Andonuts raised an eyebrow. "You haven't been sneaking any of your pop's booze, have you?"

"Doc!" Hinawa huffed indignantly. "I should hope not!"

Claus snorted, though he did smirk a bit. "No way."

"Just thought I'd check," the doctor noted with a breathy laugh. "Tell me about these dreams of yours."

"It doesn't matter. They're just dreams." Claus's tone was less than convincing, but he wasn't about to share any more than he absolutely had to. "Can you give me something to make 'em stop?"

"Sorry, lad, but I don't have anything like that," Dr. Andonuts answered with an apologetic shrug.

Slumping forward and fixing his attention on the floorboards, Claus grumbled dejectedly. "Great . . ."

Hinawa picked up on her son's resignation right away. "There must be something you can do, Doc. I hate to see him losing sleep like this."

Dr. Andonuts sighed and gave the woman an understanding smile. "I can set a broken bone, clear up an infection, or even chase away the blues," he noted with some small measure of pride, "but treating the symptoms can only do so much." Turning back to Claus, he sat down on a second stool across from the boy and crossed his legs. "There's no pill I can prescribe that'll get rid of those memories for you. I'm afraid the only way to deal with the root of your problem is to talk it out."

Hinawa had suspected he might say that. She quietly slipped over to Claus's side and rested her hand on his back to soothe him. "We're trying, Doc."

"I know you are, Hinawa." If there was one thing Dr. Andonuts would never doubt it was Hinawa's dedication to her family. "It's a process though. These things take consistent effort and, I'm sorry to say, a lot of time – especially with rascals who won't sit still."

Claus's fingers tensed around the new bottle of pills and he stopped swiveling back and forth. "I can sit still whenever I want!" he spoke up, proving that even when running on hardly any sleep he still had a fire in his belly.

Satisfied to see Claus looking lively again, Dr. Andonuts turned his full attention toward Hinawa. "I know it might sting to hear, but it can be a struggle to open up to family," he explained. "Claus might have an easier time talking to somebody else."

Leaning back in his seat, Claus shook his head. "If you mean yourself then forget it."

"Me? No, certainly not." Dr. Andonuts feigned incredulity at the mere suggestion. "But how about . . . Mr. Feelings?" With that, the doctor reached into his lab coat and produced a sock puppet with a fuzzy pink body, heart-shaped antennae, and great big googly eyes. "Eh? Eh? It's a little something I whipped up. Whatcha think?"

Visibly unamused, Claus rolled his eyes. "I think you're a quack."

Dr. Andonuts frowned at the sock puppet, although he did keep it in place on his hand. "Dang. You're one tough cookie. And here I thought you whippersnappers loved these sorts of things."

"Says the guy who doesn't have kids," the boy pointed out.

Chuckling at the observation, the doctor nodded. "I'll grant you that. But I can tell you that if I did have a son in your predicament, I'd do my darnedest to help him out."

"Thanks for trying," Hinawa said appreciatively, even if she likewise looked unconvinced by the sock puppet tactic. "We'll think about it."

"I hope you will," Dr. Andonuts asserted as his eyes darted between the pair. "It won't do Claus any good to keep things bottled up."

Claus swung his legs back and forth, his fidgeting getting worse b y the minute. "Can we go now?" he asked impatiently.

"And here I thought we were having such a nice chat," the man lamented. "Oh well. It sounds like everything's on track – at least medically speaking. If you don't have any more questions then I'll see you again in two weeks for your refills and another checkup."

"Finally!" Claus announced as he hopped to his feet. "Let's go, mom."

"Ah, ah, ah," Dr. Andonuts chided the boy. "Not so fast young man. Don't think you're leaving without one of these." The doctor, or rather Mr. Feelings, held out a lollipop for Claus.

Claus may have cringed at the offer, but he wasn't above accepting the candy. "Thanks," he mumbled before heading for the exit.

Once outside, Claus yawned and rubbed his eyes. The fresh air may have been invigorating, but it was a sorry substitute for a good night's rest. There were a few people milling about the sleepy little hamlet's well, typical of a quiet Tazmily morning. With the whole day ahead of him, the boy's mind wandered to what he might get up to later on, but try as he might the only option that called to him was a nap.

As Claus's mind wandered his mother emerged from the clinic. "All set," she said. "Ready to head home?"

"Uh-huh," Claus nodded, smiling now that the doctor's appointment was behind him. Ever eager even in his exhaustion, Claus took the lead with his mother following behind at a more leisurely pace.

Hinawa waved to the neighbors as they passed through the center of town, exchanging a few pleasantries. Jill made a comment about Lucas not sticking to his mother's side these days, though Hinawa brushed it off with her usual grace. Claus kept his distance, since if he wasn't in the mood to put up with Dr. Andonuts that went doubly for some of the townsfolk.

Once the pair had made it past the bazaar Claus finally spoke up again. "Hey, mom?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"How long do I have to keep going to the doctor?"

Hinawa gave her son a sympathetic smile. "Until you're all better."

"But how long'll that be?"

"I wish I knew," she lamented. Claus was no fan of the constant appointments, the medication, and everything else that went along with his condition, but it was every bit as hard for Hinawa to sit by and watch him go through it all. "Don't let it get you down, honey. It might not seem like it, but you're doing so much better."

Claus brightened at his mother's reassurance. "Thanks."

"And just so you know, your father and I are always willing to listen. Okay?" It was an offer Hinawa had extended many times with mixed success, and suspected she would have to make many times yet. She'd long since learned the necessity of repeating herself when it came to her sons.

Turning to look up the path, Claus sighed in response. "Yeah, I guess. It's not like you can fix anything though."

"Maybe not, but I'm sure you'd feel better."

"I already told you what happened," the redhead reminded her. "Why bother going over it again?"

"Gosh, I never thought I'd see the day when you'd turn down a chance to talk about what's on your mind," Hinawa remarked cheekily. "You've always been my little chatterbox."

Claus shrunk down to hide his rosy cheeks. "Hey, c'mon. Gimme a break."

"It's true," Hinawa went on with an unconcerned tone. "I used to worry that you boys would take after your dad in that regard, but you sure proved me wrong. You must've been the chattiest little boy in the whole town. And those questions of yours – my word, you never ran dry. I swear you only stopped when you finally fell asleep, and even that only came after you begged and pleaded for a bedtime story. It was always the same one, too. "

"Cut it out, mom. I don't care about that little kid stuff anymore."

"Yes, I know. You're all grown up now," Hinawa assured him with a soft laugh. No matter how old her son got, though, he'd always be that same little boy to her. "You do at least remember which story it was, don't you?"

Claus didn't answer at first. He tried so hard to act like a grownup that it was humiliating being treated like a kid. Still, if anyone could find a way to get at his soft underbelly, it would be his mother. ". . . Red Riding Hood."

"That's right!" Hinawa cheered. "I read that story so many times that I think I could still recite it from heart."

"I think Lucas liked Stone Soup better, but I never let him have his way if I could help it." Claus felt bad about that in hindsight. His mother's lessons about sharing with his brother took a while to sink in, but once they had he cringed whenever he looked back.

"I don't think he minded," Hinawa noted. "Truth be told, you'd usually fall asleep before him, so I'd read Lucas whichever story he wanted after you passed out."

"No kidding?" Claus laughed.

"Yep. It was about the only time of day when it was just him and I." Lucas often found himself living in his brother's shadow back then. Hinawa did her best to pay them equal mind, but it was a challenge when the elder twin was so much louder. "Of course you being the early bird got to have my undivided attention in the mornings, so I guess it all balanced out."

"I forgot about that."

With home coming into view, Hinawa slowed her pace and tarried at the tree beside the path. It would be a shame to rush indoors on a day as nice as this one. Fortunately Claus seemed to agree. "Say, do you mind if I ask what you liked so much about Red Riding Hood?"

Claus was staring off toward the sea when he answered with a shrug. "It was the woodsman at the end."

"What about him?"

"I dunno. He was big and strong and kinda like the hero of the whole story, right?" Claus scratched his head as if digging up those memories by hand. "I pictured him sorta like dad. That's how I wanted to be when I grew up. Strong, I mean. Strong like dad." He folded his arms and ducked his head down. "And, um . . . like you, too."

Hinawa was shocked to find herself included in that list. She could hardly even believe she'd heard right. "Like me?"

Claus nodded modestly. "Yeah. You're a lot tougher than you let on, mom. That night when you saved me and Lucas from the drago was proof of that." The boy shuffled his feet anxiously and shied away from eye contact. "You didn't even have a weapon but you still stood up to it. I wanted to be like you so bad, and . . . and . . . never mind. Sorry, I'm just being stupid again. Forget I said anything."

"You aren't being stupid, sweetheart," Hinawa assured him, putting an arm around his shoulder and squeezing. "I'm glad you shared."

Claus kept his head down and rolled back and forth on his heels, but couldn't hide his bashful smile. "Hey, mom? Can I ask you something?"

"Of course. What is it?"

"Does it ever bother you, knowing there was this whole other world that you don't remember?" Even Claus could admit the memories wouldn't be pleasant ones, but he was still curious. "I mean, it's like you lost something but you don't even know what it was."

Hinawa looked off into the distance to contemplate her answer. "I don't really know what to make of it, honestly. I do like the world we've got, though."

"I know you do. So do I. But it still feels . . . wrong, losing part of your life and being none the wiser." The boy had a hard time putting into words what he hated about the situation. He knew that, by all rights, he should be ecstatic to be alive and whole and to have everything back the way it should be. But no amount of rationalizing would change how he felt.

"I'm just sad to see how much it hurts you and Lucas."

Of course her only concern would be for them. It made Claus worry that he was still being selfish, the same way he'd been as a little kid. "I hoped you'd understand," he sighed. "Getting your memories stolen from you is . . . I'd say but then I'd get in trouble for using bad words."

"I could let it slide this once."

"I hate it, the thought that I'm somebody's plaything and I can't do anything about it." Claus elaborated as much to explain it to his mother as to himself. "That's why I want to get stronger. Does that make sense? Am I crazy?"

Hinawa turned to catch her son's eyes, which he reluctantly allowed. "You're not crazy; just hurting. You want to feel safe again."

Looking his mother in the eyes as he was, Claus couldn't argue the truth of her words. "Mm-hmm."

"Would it help if I said you are safe?" Hinawa asked hopefully.

"I used to think I was," Claus answered. His expression wasn't bitter or resentful when he said it, but rather lost. "What if something happens again?"

"I wish I could say it won't, honey. I really do," Hinawa remarked as she gently brushed his hair back. "But even the strongest of us still have bad days. What I _can_ tell you, though, is that you'll always have good days to look forward to; they'll come just as sure as the sun will rise in the morning."

Maybe it was the exhaustion talking, but Claus was finding it harder and harder to hold back. "After you died I didn't think I'd ever have a good day again."

"I'm sure that's how it felt, but time makes fools of us all."

Claus shut his eyes and set his jaw firmly. "If I was stronger then none of it would've happened," he said at a volume scarcely above a whisper.

"It wasn't your fault, Claus."

"Yes it was!" His composure cracked and there was no use hiding that now. Guilt, shame, anger, and whatever else was lurking in the recesses of his mind ever since that day overwhelmed the boy as the floodgates opened. He backed away and stated to pace back and forth in an effort to calm his ragged nerves and shaking hands. "If we weren't there you c-could've run away or-or-or SOMETHING."

Hinawa's every instinct as a mother urged her to do something, but experience had taught her to let her son have his space in that moment. She took a deep breath before continuing. "There's no sense worrying about what could've been. All you can do is your very best with what life gives you. If it was a choice between my life and yours then I know I did the right thing."

"And I didn't?!"

"What do you mean?" Hinawa asked, keeping an even timbre.

"It's okay for you to sacrifice yourself, but not me?!" Wounded: that was how he looked as he hurled out the accusation. It was reckless lashing out at the nearest person, the way an injured animal might. The way his father had. Even as he said it, Claus knew it wasn't fair or right, but it was how he felt.

Unfazed, Hinawa replied with the unflappable earnestness that her family depended on her for. "I wasn't there, but by the sound of it there's a difference between sacrifice and what you did. Am I right?"

Still pacing, Claus rubbed his scalp. "Maybe. There was a lot happening and I . . . I don't really know what was going through my head. Everything was so crazy. And without you there to help I didn't know what to do. I couldn't remember how to be me. You're the only one who could ever get me to stop and think." Claus tried to calm himself down, but couldn't now that he finally put a name to what he felt after his mother died: betrayed. Betrayed by her, by the drago that killed her, by his father, and by the whole world. "It wasn't just me, either. We all needed you so damn much, and when you left we all lost ourselves. Me and Lucas and dad and . . . and . . ."

Seeing her son trail off, Hinawa said the only thing she could think of. "I am so, so sorry."

"I don't blame you for leaving," Claus went on, his voice worn raw from the emotional outpouring. "It's not like you had a choice."

"It must have been torture for me, leaving you like that. I can't imagine my life without you boys."

Claus wiped his eyes. "The feeling's mutual."

Knowing her son wouldn't make the first move, Hinawa spread her arms to offer a hug. He held back, as most young men his age so often would, but quickly gave in and accepted the invitation. While the woman had hoped the gesture would help to comfort her son, it was only after he took her up on it that she realized how much she needed it herself.

"You've always been my little dreamer, Claus," Hinawa said, giving him one more squeeze for good measure. "Head in the clouds, eyes on the horizon – ever since you could walk you've been itching to get out there and away from home. Maybe I thought you'd be okay without me." Whether that was a hope or a fear, Hinawa was never certain.

"I wasn't," Claus croaked.

"And now you won't even go to see Doc on your own. I didn't see that coming."

"It's not like I forgot those years here with you," Claus explained, "but there's also the memory of those same years without you, and they're overlapping with each other. It's like the part of me from that other world missed you so much that I've got to make up for lost time or something. But nothing seems to work. I don't know what to do."

"I'll be here for as long as you need me, Claus," she reminded her son. "And even though it seems like a long road ahead now, it won't be that way forever. Someday this'll all be a distant memory. Mark my words."

"But it's so hard, mom. I'm not strong enough for this."

"Can I let you in on a little secret, Claus?"

"Uh-huh."

"You probably wouldn't remember – this was back when you were just a baby after all – but your father and I used to talk about what we wanted you boys to be like when you grew up. And not once did either of us say we wanted you to grow up to be strong."

"Why not?"

"It's not that we didn't want you to be strong, but I think we knew that you would be." Both her sons made Hinawa proud of how much they'd grown, and not merely bigger and stronger. "No, what we both hoped for most is that you boys would be kind."

"How come?"

"Because we want you to be happy," Hinawa smiled at her son. "Those good days I mentioned, they happen a lot more when you show a little kindness. Being strong could help on a bad day, but being kind will make sure you'll have a lot more good days than bad ones. Does that make sense?"

"I guess."

Hinawa clicked her tongue, worrying that her message hadn't quite sunk in. What she needed was something more concrete, a real chance for Claus to learn by doing. "Hey, I have an idea. How'd you like to help me in the kitchen today?"

Wrinkling his nose, Claus seemed hesitant to agree. "Do I have to?"

"No, sweetheart, you don't _have_ to," she assured him, "but if you do there'll be some fresh cookies in it for you."

"Huh?" No matter how grownup Claus may have considered himself, the promise of fresh cookies still piqued his interest.

"I'm thinking chocolate chip," Hinawa suggested. "How's that sound?"

Claus stifled a chuckle. After the morning he'd had, some cookies would really hit the spot. "Sounds pretty good to me."

"We'll need to make a few batches if we want enough to share with Lucas and all your friends," she continued, "but if you do a good job I'll let you lick the spoon when we're all done."

". . . Promise?"

"Cross my heart."

While it was true that neither cookies nor talking could solve Claus's problems, he couldn't deny that those problems seemed far less awful afterwards. It was going to be a good day.


	40. Those Who Lost Everything

_Clang_. _Clang_. _Clang_. Slow and steady, the sound of the Cross Road bell echoed louder as Lucas approached. It was one of the many familiar sounds that made up the backdrop of quiet country life: dependable as his footfalls on the dirt path and as comforting as a heartbeat.

Lucas stopped before the bell and its ringer, shielding his eyes from the sun as he craned his neck to look up. "Mister Leder?" he asked.

 _Clang_. The man paid him no mind. The boy couldn't deny that he was impressed by such single-minded devotion to such a tedious task. He wondered if that was a side effect of getting old.

"Mister Leder, I need to talk to you," Lucas persisted, louder than before.

 _Clang_. The man's wrinkled suit – the same one he wore every day – did hamper his dedicated image somewhat. If he took a day off once in a while he might have a chance to iron it (which could very well take the entire day off, given the suit's size). Then again, Lucas realized that he was in no position to judge as he looked down at the red and yellow striped shirt he wore constantly.

"It's okay," Lucas assured him timidly. "You don't have to say anything; I'll just talk and you can listen."

 _Clang_. It seemed like Leder was fine with that arrangement.

". . . Or not," Lucas sighed. "I hope you do, though. You're a great listener."

 _Clang_.

"It's Claus," Lucas began at last. "You remember when we talked about the Dragon and how it messed with everyone's memories? Well Claus thinks we need to put a stop to that."

 _Clang_.

"I mean it's not like he's _wrong_ ," Lucas quickly pointed out. "At least I don't think he is. Is he? Whatever. The important thing is that the Dragon did a bunch of good stuff, too. It brought Claus and my mom back to life. If anything happened to the Dragon then all that might go away. Claus acts like it won't, but he doesn't have a clue what he's talking about."

 _Clang_.

"Okay, sure, I don't know what'll happen either," Lucas huffed and kicked the dirt. "But something _could_ happen."

 _Clang_. Leder glanced down with his ever-stoic expression.

"Don't give me that look," Lucas scolded the man with his arms crossed. "Anyway, I convinced him to give me a little time to, y'know, figure it out."

 _Clang_.

"The problem is I don't know how," the boy confessed meekly. "There's too many questions I can't answer. But if I don't come up with SOMETHING then Claus'll charge off without me like he always does. It feels like I'm running in circles."

 _Clang_.

"Not that he'd listen anyway," Lucas sulked, walking in circles around Leder's feet. "I might as well not even open my mouth for all the good it'd do. And not just with him, either; it seems like no one in this whole stinkin' town can hear a word I say sometimes." Lucas halted in his tracks and looked up at the man again, shaking his head at the irony. "I guess that's something you and I have in common, huh? It doesn't matter what we think, does it? Life just sweeps us along like a river."

 _Clang_.

"I wanted this to mean something," Lucas insisted. "Most of the choices I get don't seem like they even matter. But this one could." Sighing again, Lucas leaned back against the bell tower and looked down at his spindly legs and dirty shoes. He felt it again: that old, familiar weight on his chest, the pressure that came from having other people depending on him. If he messed up it wouldn't be just him that got hurt. "I NEED to make a decision. If I don't then that river will keep on rushing by and the choice'll fly out of my hands. That's why I came to you, Mister Leder. I thought that if anyone could help it'd be you. You're the only one I know who had to deal with anything like this. You and everyone else from the White Ship came here together. They forgot their whole lives and started over. I need to know: is it worth it?"

This time the bell did not ring. Leder's eyes closed behind his spectacles and he breathed deeply. After a few moments he set the mallet down and turned to look at the boy by his feet with an understanding smile. "Would you like to join me for a walk, Lucas?" he asked in a voice that creaked like old leather.

Lucas let go of the breath that he didn't realize he'd been holding in and gave an enthusiastic nod. "Okay."

Despite Leder's leisurely pace, the blonde had to nearly jog to keep up with his long strides. Lucas wasn't sure where they were going, but it didn't matter as long as he got help. Leder kept his lips sealed as they headed north, the quiet of the Cross Road seeming almost alien in the absence of the ringing bell. How quickly Lucas had grown accustomed to the old way of things again. Though he could still clearly picture the train station that once stood here, the busy platform and dozens of people passing through, that all seemed like a half-remembered dream from a lifetime ago now.

The pair soon reached the graveyard. While the flowers and mementos left on graves marked where visitors had recently been, there was no one to be seen on this day. Even Nippolyte was absent – probably off tending his garden, Lucas assumed. With luck that would make Leder more willing to talk freely.

"I hope you are not afraid of graveyards," the man noted as they passed by a gnarled old oak.

"No, it's fine," Lucas assured him with a half-smile. "I used to come up here a lot. To see mom."

Appreciating the sensitive sentiment, Leder quickly changed the topic. "There were fewer graves here, back when we first arrived."

Scanning over the tombstones, Lucas knew the truth of Leder's words. Scamp may have been the most recent villager to come to his final rest here, but he was far from the only one. Most were older, of course, and Lucas couldn't claim he knew any of them well, but he could remember several funerals in his time. "I guess I'm not the only one who lost somebody."

"Far from it," Leder acknowledged, "but unlike most of Tazmily's people, you can still remember what it is that you lost."

"I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing."

"Some of both," Leder said, based on his own experience in the very same circumstances, "but I'd be lying if I said a day went by that I didn't envy them."

Lucas looked up at Leder again. The boy had already spilled the beans about those he'd lost, so maybe it was the bell-ringer's turn. "Who'd you lose?"

"Everyone," Leder said with a grim finality. "Everything."

Upon reflection, Lucas realized he should have suspected that would be the answer. The end of the world didn't sound like it would be too picky. "Oh."

"Family. Friends. Familiar faces and strangers alike," Leder went on, unbidden but also unable to hold back from laying out his grief to the one person he could talk to. "I lost my home, my job, my favorite restaurant. Every place I'd ever been to and every place I'd ever wanted to go. I lost my past, and when it was all done I lost my future along with it." The man cast his eyes down at the graves, imagining the countless more that it would take to represent everything and everyone that he alone lost, and then multiplying that innumerable times over for every other person who lost just as much. He reached out his hand and saw his long, ragged fingers with their discolored nails, bulbous knuckles and spotty, sallow skin. He was more aware than ever that time was catching up on him, and that the day would come when he too would be another lost thing.

"Losing a person might feel like the end of the world," he finally continued, "but the end of the world feels like so much more than words can do justice to. I think the only thing which kept us 'sane' – those of us who came here on the White Ship – was that we all went through the same unimaginable loss together. That's why I still think of every person here as part of my 'family'."

Lucas frowned to himself. "That's . . . really sad. 'Cause they don't think of you the same way."

"Yes, it is sad," Leder nodded solemnly, "but many things in life are sad. Important things. Necessary things. I believe that we were right to erase everyone's memories."

"Do you really think so?" Lucas wondered.

"We shared our wisdom and discussed what to do at great length," Leder said in a stern voice, the words sounding practiced even on his seldom-used tongue. "Many thought it would be a terrible loss to forget what came before – both those we'd lost and the wisdom we'd gained. One of the strongest voices on that side was a young man scarcely older than you are now."

"Who was it?"

"Your father."

"Really?" Lucas couldn't imagine his father being so young, and certainly had never pictured him escaping from the end of the world and debating over the fate of humanity.

A slight smile creased the old man's lips as he recalled those distant days. "Even back then, he had a quiet strength about him, but he still burned with a youthful fire. He told all of us there about his family back home – his parents, his sister, even his faithful dog. Like the rest of us, he'd lost them all when the 'world' came to an end."

Lucas perked up. "I had an aunt?"

"You would have." Leder's expression and tenor both grew dourer as he caught himself dabbling in what might have been. "Your father said that the only keepsake he had left of them was the Courage Badge pinned to his chest. Everything else – their names, their faces, their bad jokes and favorite foods, every last little thing that makes a person who they are – it only survived in his memory. Erasing that, he told us, would be like killing them all over again."

"Was he right?"

Leder regarded the boy quietly, pondering an answer to a question he had so often asked himself. In the end, he gave the only answer he could: "I'll leave that up to you to decide. You'd be well served to care less about what silly old men like me think and care more about what we've seen."

"Okay." Lucas tried to hide his disappointment at what he considered to be a cop-out, but maybe the answer to that one question wasn't what mattered most. "So then what happened?"

"In the end we all agreed to start fresh, your father included." The decision still tasted bittersweet to Leder even after all those years. Feelings were hurt; nerves were frayed; they had argued until their voices were hoarse. In the end, no one was happy, but it was the best they could do. "It was the only way to move forward, you see, unburdened by the pain of such terrible loss. Even if it meant forgetting them, your father knew his family would want him to keep going. I believe they would be proud to see him now."

"Wasn't there some other way?" Lucas asked.

"Do you think it would be better on him to remember?" Leder wondered, as much to himself as to the boy next to him. "Would all those distant memories of family dinners and sibling rivalry bring a smile to his face? Or would all that be drowned out by the pain of losing them?"

Lucas bit his tongue, reflecting on how familiar such a tragedy was. He told himself that he wouldn't want to forget about his mother and Claus no matter what, but he'd never been given the option. He knew the temptation of such a thing, though. If Claus hadn't grabbed the Egg of Light first on that day at the castle, Lucas would have wiped away all those painful memories without a second thought. "I wish I knew."

"It wasn't an easy decision to make, Lucas," Leder assured him. "Not for any of us. Even after all that talking we did, none of us were sure what would happen."

"Why'd you do it then?"

"What other choice was there?" Leder asked. "We were all that was left of humanity. We had to keep going so that it wouldn't all be for nothing. We had to find a way to move on."

"Except you didn't get to move on with them, did you?"

Groaning and creaking, Leder lowered himself into a kneeling position, if only to meet Lucas somewhat eye-to-eye. "Well, someone did have to stay behind to 'keep watch' on things." The man smirked at that familiar old line. Was it a service, or was it an excuse to keep those painful memories? He'd never been entirely sure. "I don't regret my position. If it wasn't me then somebody else would have been stuck with this job. Who knows? It could have even been your father. Or your mother. Or your grandfather. Wouldn't that be so much worse?"

Lucas didn't answer. He simply stared back at Leder, trying to read the old fellow through his impenetrable expression and thick spectacles. If the man had any secrets left, though, they weren't written in his wrinkles.

"As I said, I lost my family," Leder went on. "The White Ship people were all I had left. They were all anyone had left. The last human 'family'. I came to care for them very much. And part of caring about someone is making sacrifices for them."

"It still doesn't seem fair," Lucas noted sympathetically.

"I'll let you in on a secret," Leder said in a hushed, conspiratorial tone. "I wouldn't have volunteered for this job if I didn't think these people were worth it. It's true that humans destroyed the 'world' once, but when the people here were willing to give up everything – even their memories of the old world – I knew that there was hope for us."

"But don't you wish they at least remembered everything you did for them?"

"There's more to who we are than what we remember, Lucas," the wizened man assured him. "Whether or not they remember, the White Ship people are still themselves. Do you understand?"

"Kinda?" Lucas shrugged.

Leder smiled and laughed. "It's alright if you don't. Many of us were convinced that losing our memories would change us. Some feared losing who they were. Others hoped that we'd be new, better people."

Lucas quizzically cocked his head to the side. "Were they right?"

"No, I don't think so," Leder answered with a shake of his head. "They all changed much less than they expected to."

"Really?"

Shifting to a more comfortable position, Leder looked up at the blue sky and puffy clouds overhead. "In hindsight, it should have been obvious. I'm sure there are plenty of parts of your life that you've forgotten but which still shape you. For example, let's say, oh . . . brushing your teeth. I bet you can't remember learning how, but you can still do it. Right?"

"I guess."

"I hope so for your sake. When you get to be my age, you'll appreciate a good set of teeth." Leder chuckled to himself. "It's not just dental hygiene, either. You can do so much without relying on that fickle friend 'memory'. It's a good thing, too, or old-timers like me would be in a real bind. Some things simply sink in deeper than others. They become part of our hearts, our bones, and our blood. The important stuff doesn't teach you; it transforms you."

"So things like . . . love?" Lucas had seen that much firsthand. Even when appealing to his memory failed, the masked man was still vulnerable to love.

"Yes, like love," Leder concurred. "I'm sure that everyone here brought love with them from the old 'world'. Your father may have lost his old family, but he still carried their love inside him, and in turn he passed it onto you."

"So you're saying that memories don't matter as long as we still have love, right?" Lucas asked.

"Maybe I am," Leder shrugged. "Maybe I'm saying that we shouldn't let yesterday get in the way of tomorrow. It's up to you what to make of it."

"So then what about these?" Lucas asked, motioning to the gravestones in every direction. "Aren't these just reminding us of what we lost? Are you saying we should forget about the past? Move on and pretend like the bad stuff never happened?" The boy felt a sinking feeling in his chest as he recalled how everyone in Tazmily was so quick to forget all about his mom and brother, and how they told him he should do the same.

Looking down, Leder removed his spectacles to clean them. "Loss, too, has a way of seeping into our bones," he said. "I'd like to think that we made the right decision. Not a good decision, perhaps, but the right one. I don't know, honestly. Try as we might to wipe the slate clean, though, I believe that loss has shaped everyone here, including your father."

"He . . . doesn't take losing people very well," Lucas answered vaguely.

"Overcoming pain, loss, and adversity is something to be proud of," Leder continued. "But so is building a good home, and surrounding yourself with good people."

"If you knew what would happen, would you have done anything different?" Lucas asked.

Leder answered plainly: "I don't believe I would."

"So did the Dragon do the right thing by erasing everyone's memories?"

"I cannot say." With that, Leder slowly rose to his feet, dusting his hands off on his wrinkled trousers and adjusting his black tie. He started to tip his hat when he paused mid-motion, as if struck by a thought. "What I can tell you is that when we did the same thing, it was our choice to do so. No one's memories were taken; they were freely given up."

Lucas finished the thought. ". . . But the Dragon didn't give anyone a choice."

Leder raised an eyebrow. "Do you believe that was the right thing for it to do?"

"No," Lucas responded adamantly.

"Then you no longer need my help," Leder said with a proud smirk. "I think you already have the answer you came here for."

"But it's not that simple!" Lucas insisted. "What if I make things worse?"

"That's part of life, Lucas. There'll be times when you have to make hard choices without knowing the outcome. Sometimes you'll do the right thing and sometimes you won't. But what matters is that you make those decisions yourself instead of running away from them. Tell your own 'story', Lucas. Do you understand?"

". . . Yes."


	41. CoffEE BREaK

The sun was starting to set over Saturn Valley just as Kumatora crested the cliff. Her arrival sent birds scattering in every direction, but aside from that everything was as serene as she'd left it – only the sound of the hot spring and its patrons could be heard as she turned to set her foot on the ladder.

"Look who's back!" Baccio announced from his seat in the spring as he heard her approach.

"HiHi, SiR oR laDy," a Mr. Saturn near the base of the cliff greeted her warmly, its antenna wobbling to-and-fro when it rolled back to look up at her. "taKE CaRE of SliPPiNG oN laDDER."

Once she set foot on the green grass Kumatora didn't waste a second, kicking off her boots before she'd taken her hand off the rung and heading straight for the spring. Stepping into the healing waters, Kumatora gave a contented sigh and sat down on the grassy bank. "That's the good stuff."

A Mr. Saturn floated by, balancing a cup and saucer on its nose. "CoffEE?" it offered.

"Don't mind if I do," Kumatora answered as she caught the passing drink in her hand.

"Kay-o, Kay-o!" Mr. Saturn answered in a sing-song voice as the swirling current carried it along.

"Good to see you in one piece," OJ smiled at her from his position reclining against the far side of the pool.

"Where's Lucky?" Baccio asked from the nearest corner of the spring, his trademark sunglasses fogged up by the steam rising off the water.

"I'm sure he'll be along in his own time," Shimmy Zmizz chuckled from the bank closer to OJ. He was also soaking his feet and showed the telltale signs of a day spent tanning under the Nowhere Islands sun, down to a splotch of sunscreen on his nose. "You know how long, romantic walks through a volcano take it out of him."

The princess nearly gagged on her sip of coffee. "Sorry to burst your bubble, boys," she explained, wiping a spill from her chin, "but there was nothin' 'romantic' going on. Not unless beating up Magmen gets you in the mood."

"Well then what _did_ you two head up there for?" Shimmy Zmizz wondered, lifting his sunglasses with his thumb to get a better look at the girl.

"Beats me," Kumatora huffed in annoyance. "You'd have to ask him."

As if on cue, Duster appeared over the cliff's edge, his skin pepped with volcanic ash and his shirt stained with sweat. "I said you didn't have to come unless you wanted to," he reminded her. ". . . Not that I didn't appreciate the company."

"Finally got tired of listening to the rocks, huh?" she asked with a cheeky wink.

"And here I thought you'd be more open-minded," Duster called down to her as he lowered himself slowly onto the ladder, leading with his strong leg. Despite putting on a brave face, he was aching after the day's trek. It was worth it to keep Kumatora's spirits up, though. "Whoops!"

The Mr. Saturn beneath the ladder rolled away as Duster pulled his foot back, an imprint of the thief's shoe still clearly visible between its eyes. "atHlEtE's faCE . . ." it groaned.

"Sorry, sorry!" Duster apologized as he gingerly set foot on solid ground, this time making sure of where he was stepping.

It was then that Magic breached the water's surface, his Mohawk lying slack against his scalp. "Watch where you step, Lucky," he chimed in. "These Saturns are all nose and those are some funky feet you've got."

"I'll be more careful," Duster said in a conciliatory tone.

The other Mr. Saturn floated past the guitarist, now balancing a roll of paper towels shaped like little garden tools on its nose. "PaPER tRowEl?" it offered.

"Thanks, little man," Magic said as he tore off a sheet to dry his face on.

"So, Lucky," Baccio began, "did you find anything?"

"I think so," Duster told him with a satisfied smirk.

"Well don't keep us in suspense," Shimmy Zmizz insisted, leaning forward with great interest. "What'cha find?"

"It's just like I thought," Duster continued as he hobbled over to the water's edge and started to untie his shoes. "Up in the volcano there's this place where you can hear . . . I don't know what you'd call it. It's like a real deep sound."

OJ tapped his chin. "Weird stuff," he said. "You think it'll point the way to this Dragon?" The saxophonist still wasn't sure what it is that they wanted to see the Dragon about, if such a thing even existed, but if it was important to his friends then that was enough for him.

"I don't see how," Kumatora cut in, scowling at the idea. They all knew she was frustrated at having no leads to follow, souring her mood over the last few weeks. Duster, however, was the only one who had any idea how to turn things around.

"It's not the first time we've heard it," the bassist pointed out eagerly as he finally slid into the hot spring between Baccio and Kumatora. "Remember at Tanetane Island? And in Osohe Castle? We heard the same sound there."

Baccio gave his bandmate a sidelong look. "What sorta sound?"

Duster tried to explain in hopes that his friend's interest would prove to be infectious. "The real, REAL deep kind. So deep you can barely even hear it. You sure can feel it, though. Almost like a bass, now that I think about it."

"How's a sound supposed to help us find the Dragon again?" Kumatora asked, refusing to take the bait just yet.

Duster sighed and turned back to the princess with a patient expression. "Fire Mountain; Osohe Castle; Tanetane Island: those are all places where Lucas said there used to be Needles," he reminded her. "There's no way it's a coincidence that we've heard this sound at all those spots."

"So what?" she shrugged defensively, her arms folded in front of her as she barely returned her boyfriend's look. "You found a weird noise. How's that help us?"

Unfortunately, Duster hadn't quite figured that part out. "Well, it . . . I'm not sure. YET. But we'll cross that bridge when we come to it." Kumatora looked unimpressed with his answer, but it was the best one he had.

"I gotcha, Lucky," Shimmy Zmizz nodded emphatically. "You're on to something here. Trust in the music, my man. Follow that sound and it'll open doors you didn't even know were there."

"I guess?" Duster agreed weakly, hoping that Kumatora would buy into it even if he wasn't convinced. "Whatever the case, I think it means _something_. The Needles were tied to the Dragon and this sound is tied to the Needles. At least it's a lead, right? That's more than we've had for a while."

Kumatora seemed to relax a bit, leaning back on her hands and kicking the water. "I'll give you that much," she conceded.

Seeing her finally starting to come around on the idea, Duster laid out his plan. "I want to find all the other spots where Needles used to be," he explained with renewed vigor. "I think there's more going on with that noise. I want to be sure."

"What're you thinking?" Baccio inquired.

Duster hesitated to answer. It was only an inkling he had, a vague suspicion that would sound crazy if he voiced it out loud. Still, he felt like he owed his friends an explanation, even if it was a crazy one. "I can't say for certain, but I think . . . I think there's something weird about it. Like it's different between here and Osohe and Tanetane."

"How do you mean?" the drummer persisted.

Scratching at the stubble on his cheek, Duster struggled to put his feeling into words. Perhaps that's all it was: a gut feeling with nothing to back it up. Then again, he may have never left Tazmily without trusting his gut. "See, the sound's the same, but not the same, if that makes any sense." Duster strained to find the right words, as he so often had in the past. It wasn't until he started playing music that he ever felt like he truly found his voice. "It's like they're different notes played on one instrument."

"Well now, that is something," OJ nodded.

"Different notes, huh?" Kumatora asked. "How could you even tell? Tanetane Island was months ago."

"It's just a feeling I had," Duster admitted. "Sorry if that's not good enough."

"Well . . . it's good enough for _me_ ," Kumatora told him with a broad smirk. For a moment the thief could see a sparkle in her eyes as if all the frustrations of the long winter had finally melted from her features, blooming into a bright and colorful spring. "Might be worth checkin' out. What'cha think it means?"

"Not a clue," Duster confessed. "But it's gotta mean something. Seven Magypsies, seven Needles, and now seven notes. Who knows? Maybe it'll make a nice little melody."

At that, Kumatora cocked her head to the side quizzically and set her coffee down on the grass next to her. "A melody, huh?"

"Something catch your ear?" Shimmy Zmizz wondered, turning to look at the princess.

Kumatora shook her head. "No, no. I was . . ." She paused again, obviously distracted by something. "Forget it. I was trying to remember a story I'd heard about melodies."

"StoRy timE?" Mr. Saturn asked as it plopped down next to Kumatora.

Baccio seemed to share Mr. Saturn's curiosity. "How'd it go?"

"Not really a story," Kumatora clarified. "More like a rumor – something to do with psychics. Can't remember where I heard it, but then that's nothin' new for me. I'll chalk it up to that big ol' empty space that makes up most of my life."

"Psychic melodies, huh?" OJ was intrigued. "Now that sounds like it's worth hearing."

"Could a psychic musician do his own pyrotechnics?" Magic pondered to himself.

Baccio shook his head, clicking his tongue at the guitarist. "You've got a one-track mind, Magic," he said. "So what's this rumor of yours then, Kumatora?"

The princess wasn't paying them much mind; instead she was staring into the steam rising from her coffee as it swirled into the air and mingled with the steam from the hot spring. She ran a finger along the cup's edge, stretching her mind out to recall something on the farthest edge of her memory before she finally spoke again. "Any of you ever heard of a magicant?"

For all the blank faces staring her way, Kumatora was met by the only one that lit up at her question. "maGi CaN't maGiC aNt," the floating Mr. Saturn spoke up as he drifted into Kumatora's field of view. "aNty aNty aNt aNt."

OJ smoothed his hair back uncomfortably. He liked to fancy himself as the sort of guy who was always in the loop, but in this case even he had to plead ignorance. "Doesn't ring any bells," he admitted sheepishly.

"What is it?" Baccio wondered, his interest piqued at the unfamiliar word.

Kumatora instantly regretted even bringing it up. She hated feeling like the odd one out, and nothing made her feel quite so far out as having everyone around her look at her like she was nuts. "It's like another world or something," she explained curtly, hoping to get through it without too many awkward looks. "They say the only way to get into one is with a special melody."

Baccio leaned back and faced up at the sky, a knowing smile on his face. "Another world where only music can take you, huh? Yeah, that sounds familiar."

"Sounds like us in the middle of a wild jam session," Shimmy Zmizz chuckled.

"Especially after some of this coffee," Magic added with a grin mirroring Baccio's.

Picking up on her mood, Duster ignored the others to focus on Kumatora. "What's on your mind?" he asked softly. Ever since he'd first met the pink-haired girl, he'd been enraptured by her vibrant demeanor, her wild, untamed drive. It was that very thing which drew him to her: seeing something that he'd so often lacked himself. Even being near to Kumatora was like standing in the eye of a storm at times, but he loved every second of it. Now, though, the storm was no more than a drizzle, and it pained him to see her so beaten down by so many dead-ends.

"Just thinking out loud," she shrugged with feigned indifference. "Like, what if we could use these 'notes' of yours the same way that a melody can take you to a magicant?"

"So you think we could use them to find the Dragon?" Duster asked.

"It's not like we've had much luck trackin' it down any other way," Kumatora pointed out, her tone hinting at some faint hope that hadn't been there before.

Duster was skeptical but refused to show it. "You know this psychic stuff better than anyone else. You think it'll work?"

Kumatora snorted and slumped her shoulders. "Beats me." She was as doubtful as any of them – probably more so. Magicants were something she'd only heard of, never actually seen. She wouldn't have even brought it up if not for Duster's crazy notion. After so many disappointments, all that time wasted and clues that led nowhere, she was already resigned to yet another failure. "It's just an idea since you were goin' on about notes and melodies and whatever else."

With a splash of water, OJ stood up tall with a determined look on his face. "Of course it'll work!" he announced decisively. "There's nothing music can't do!"

Swimming in front of OJ, Mr. Saturn seemed to agree. "fUNKy RHytHm. BoiNG!"

"OJ's right," Shimmy Zmizz nodded. "If there's one thing I've learned with you guys it's to never doubt the power of music – especially its power to bring folks together. If anything can get a Dragon's ear, it'll be that."

"Well when you say it that way I really think you might be on to something," Baccio laughed. "Count me in for . . . whatever the plan is."

Magic was scratching his head in confusion. "Listening for noises or notes or something, right? Ah, doesn't matter. What've we got to lose by trying?"

Scoffing at the sudden outburst of enthusiasm from the others, Kumatora put her foot down. "Plenty," she reminded the musicians sternly. "Time, at the very least. You bums have hardly practiced in weeks, never mind put on an actual show. The last thing you need is another wild goose chase."

With his hands on his hips and a devil-may-care smirk on his face, OJ shrugged off her concerns with ease. "No sweat. We'll call it a world tour and pick up gigs on the go."

"It'll be dangerous, too," Kumatora went on. "We almost died on the way to Tanetane Island, remember? And if it wasn't for Ocho we'd probably still be stuck there. Next time we might not be so lucky."

"I think we've got all the luck we need right here, don't we?" Baccio asked, elbowing Duster in the ribs. "Besides there's safety in numbers. If it is dangerous then there's no way we're gonna let you face it alone."

"You got that right," Shimmy Zmizz agreed emphatically.

Despite herself, Kumatora appreciated the gesture. "You idiots . . ." she grumbled before turning to Duster. "Talk some sense into these guys, would you?"

Duster simply smiled and shook his head. "Sorry, but I'm with them. We're not about to abandon you just because the road gets a little rough."

"Not you too . . ." Kumatora groaned. "You guys don't even know where we're going!"

"True," Duster conceded, "but you better believe we'll get there together."

"Damn straight," OJ said resolutely.

Looking at five pairs of eyes staring back at her, Kumatora knew she was beaten. "Fine," she gave in, hoping to hide the growing warmth in her face. It wasn't much of a plan, and they weren't the best men for the job, but there was no one she'd rather have backing her up.


	42. The Way Things Were

The rickety wooden door opened with a yawn as Claus stepped out into the bright morning sunlight. Nearly blinded, he could still make out the sounds of animals milling about and a steady breeze blowing over the plateau.

"Mornin', sleepyhead!" Alec called out to him with all the energy of a man who'd been up for hours.

"Hey," Claus croaked, still hiding his poor, tired eyes from the sun as he stumbled down the steps toward his grandfather.

"About time you got out of bed," Alec said as he emptied a bag of animal feed into the trough. "You must've been plum tuckered out from the hike up here."

Claus gave a nod while rubbing his eyes. "Yeah, I was." His vision was finally clearing enough to get a good view of his grandfather's land. The cow was sauntering over, its old bell clanging as it heeded the call to breakfast; the pigs weren't far behind either, squealing excitedly. The chickens, on the other hand, seemed more content to aimlessly peck around in the yard. Claus knew he must've been exhausted if he'd managed to sleep through their crowing.

While it wasn't especially late in the day, the redhead had been asleep since just after dinner the night before. He and Lucas came up the mountain together while their parents stayed behind in Tazmily, insisting that it would be good for the twins to "get away from it all" or something. Lucas had jumped at the idea (Claus suspected it was his brother's scheme in the first place) and the older twin wasn't about to argue. After all, it was the very thing he'd been hoping for: a chance to feel normal again.

"Y'know you'd look a whole lot manlier if you ran a comb through that hair of yours," Alec pointed out.

The boy yawned and scratched his messy mane of hair without responding. In his state, it was a wonder Claus had even bothered getting dressed. "Where's Lucas?" he asked, smacking his lips.

"Ran off to play," Alec told him as he gave the cow next to him a hearty pat on the neck. "He's around here someplace."

"I better start looking then," Claus said, stretching his arms out over his head.

"Hey, Claus," Alec interrupted with an ill-hidden grin. "Why'd the rooster oversleep?"

Still dazed, the boy was caught off guard. "Huh?" he asked, turning to his grandfather in bewilderment.

Alec tossed the empty feedbag aside before replying, giving his question just enough time to percolate. "Because he forgot to set his alarm clock-a-doodle-doo!" He guffawed at his own joke, much to his grandson's chagrin.

"Oof," Claus winced. "You really laid an _egg_ with that one, grandpa."

Smiling at his grandson's quick retort, Alec shook his head. "Everyone's a critic. And here I was hoping it would go _over easy_."

"Nah. I'm too _hard-boiled_ for that," the boy shrugged. "But look on the _sunny side_ : we're here for a whole week, so you don't have to _scramble_ to come up with better puns."

"Alright, alright! You got me," Alec surrendered. "Go on now. I got work to do, and unless you're fixin' to lend a hand I don't need you underfoot."

Feeling quite pleased with himself, Claus did as he was told. Lucas couldn't have gone far, he thought; if anything, looking for him would be a good excuse to explore the mountain. No matter how many times he may have wandered the dusty Oriander heights, there was always something new to discover – be it a mysterious cave or a view of the valley or an unexplored vista. With all the time that had passed since he last stayed with his grandfather, there were sure to be all sorts of new sights just waiting for him.

Making a cursory attempt to smooth his hair back, Claus moseyed off to the east. On his stroll he looked up to marvel at hawk lazily circling overhead, kept aloft on a stiff breeze as it surveyed the whole mountain from high above it. Shutting his eyes, he imagined being that bird. He felt the same breeze wash over him, the same warm sun on his skin. The earthy smell of dirt, grass and sand hung in the air like a familiar perfume, something that called to mind memories he'd long misplaced. He was so caught up that he didn't even notice Lucas approaching until the blonde called out to him. "Good morning!"

Whipping back to reality, Claus was about to return the greeting when he saw that Lucas wasn't alone. Standing beside him, a bit over a head taller than the boy, was a drago. "Whoa," Claus gasped, his eyes wide in surprise.

"Look who it is," Lucas said with a sweet smile. "You still remember the baby drago, don't you?"

"Wait, what?!" Claus could hardly believe what he was seeing. " _That's_ the baby drago?!"

"Yeah. I guess it's not a baby anymore, is it?" Lucas admitted, reaching over to pat the animal on the head. It nuzzled back against him affectionately.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised," Claus realized, considering how much time had passed. Still, he couldn't help but gawk at how much the drago had grown, and it wasn't even close to full-sized yet. "I just can't believe it's so . . . so BIG!"

Lucas giggled at his brother's reaction. "Did you think you were the only one who got taller?"

Claus shied away bashfully. "Well no, but . . ." He didn't finish the thought, since he couldn't come up with an excuse. Fortunately his brother was more than happy to let it slide.

"Want to play with us?" Lucas offered.

The drago looked at the redhead expectantly, its broad, toothy smile wordlessly pleading for another playmate. The sight of those teeth sent a wave of tension up Claus's spine. As sweet and gentle as he knew the animal to be, he couldn't quite shake the dreadful familiarity of those fangs.

As if sensing the boy's trepidation, the drago sprang forward. Claus recoiled, fearing an attack, but as soon as he felt the lizard's big, slimy tongue lapping at his face he was fighting only to contain his giggling. "Ack! Quit it!" Claus shouted, ineffectually trying to push the beast off himself. "Lucas! HeeheeheeHELP!"

Lucas tried to wrestle the drago off his brother (although he wasn't trying terribly hard) and eventually managed to distract it enough for Claus to get free. The redhead wiped spit off his face, thankful he hadn't wasted much time on his hair before the drago gave it an interesting new style. "I think somebody missed you," Lucas pointed out while struggling to avoid the same sticky fate.

"No kidding," Claus laughed before reaching out to pet the drago. "Sorry it's been so long, buddy. I . . . wasn't myself for a while."

"It's okay," Lucas assured his brother. "I think he's just glad you're here now."

The all-too-brief moment was broken up by the unmistakable bellow of an adult drago rising over the cliffs, shaking the ground underfoot and causing the blood in Claus's veins to run cold. The twins' playmate perked up right away and stomped off back the way it had come from, its tail nearly slapping Claus as it turned.

The blonde held his tongue, gauging his brother's response. Not that it was hard to read the spooked expression on his suddenly colorless face. When Claus finally spoke, he asked, "Was that . . . ?"

"Don't freak out," Lucas whispered, "but yeah, it is."

Claus took a step back. He knew this was a risk (if not an outright certainty) but his whole family insisted that spending some time up in the mountains would be great for him. Every time they talked about this trip he had to silently reassure himself that the drago wouldn't be here. So much for that.

"You don't have to see him if you don't want to," Lucas added, hoping to set his brother's mind at ease. "We can go back to grandpa's and forget all about it if you want."

It would be so easy to give in. He could go back to the cabin and forget all about the drago. But that wouldn't fix anything and he knew it. "Just . . ." Claus stopped short, praying that Lucas hadn't heard the lump in his throat. "Just gimme a minute."

Lucas nodded meekly. "Okay. Sh-should I leave?"

"Don't."

Easing off, the younger twin said no more. Unsure of what to do with his hands, he tried not to fidget too much. Claus, meanwhile, couldn't even pretend like his knees weren't wobbling out of his control. He kept shooting glances across the ridge in the direction where the drago had run off, his mind conjuring all sorts of dread about the terrible monster lurking there. Pacing back and forth, even the serene mountain air that usually brought him so much peace was no help. Finally he closed his eyes, sucked in a deep breath, and began to count.

One. The very same creature that started him down that disastrous path was within spitting distance after all these years. Try as he might to place the blame at Porky's feet, it was still that drago which killed his mother.

Two. He too knew what it was like, to be carved up and twisted into a mechanical monster, bent to serve that bastard's will. Yet he still carried with him the guilt of every last deed he did under the Pig King's command. He couldn't forgive himself. Neither could he forgive the animal which had done the same.

Three. That was the heart and soul of the problem: it wasn't the drago that terrified him, but himself. That animal was a living mirror that haunted the back of his thoughts, and now it was waiting for him to walk up to it. To stare into the eyes of the monster he knew himself to be.

Four. It had been four years since they'd come up here with their mother. Four years since she died with that drago's fang through her heart. Four years since he suffered an even worse fate at the claws of the very same beast. Those years had done nothing to dull the pain.

Five. And breathe out. Breathe out all that resentment. Breathe out the wrongness he'd been clinging to, holding inside himself like air that had grown stale in his lungs. Breathe it out and watch it drift off into the clear mountain air, swept away in the wind like it was never there in the first place.

Claus opened his eyes. "Lucas?"

"Yeah?"

"Let's go."

"Are you sure?"

"No." Claus swallowed hard. "But we gotta. If we stand around here much longer I feel like I'm gonna throw up or pee my pants or something."

Lucas laughed and urged his brother forward. "Okay, okay. Let's go then. I'm right here with you."

Claus's whole body was tied up in knots; even his toes were curled in on themselves. But through sheer force of will he made himself to take one wobbly step forward. Then another. And a third. It got easier when he focused on the task at hand and not what came next.

And then, as he rounded the corner, Claus came into full view of the trio of dragos. His steps faltered and his breath hitched in his throat. There it was, sunning itself on a boulder: the papa drago, in the flesh with all its original parts right where they should be. The hairs on the back of the boy's neck stood on end at the sight.

"You're doing fine," Lucas encouraged him in a hushed voice.

Claus hadn't set eyes on that drago in four years, but seeing it now brought back all the memories he'd tried so hard to forget. Yet it also made him realize just how different the genuine article was from the phantasm inside his head. Gone were the scars, the mechanical limbs, the terrible roar and fiery breath. It wasn't even as big as he'd built it up to be. The "monster" was just lying there, basking in the warm summer sun with its tongue lazily dipping out between its fangs. If Claus had feared a confrontation, he could see he wasn't going to get it from the placid creature dozing before him.

"Is that really him?" Claus murmured, sounding almost disappointed to his brother's ears.

"Uh-huh," Lucas nodded from a few paces back.

"What should I do?"

"Go say hello," Lucas suggested. "It's not gonna hurt you."

Claus chewed his lip anxiously. His brother was right, of course, and the redhead knew it. Besides, he didn't want anybody to think he was scared of the gentlest creature on the Nowhere Islands (even though he still was). So he began to walk forward again, one step at a time. The mother and child eyed him with faint curiosity only briefly before going back to their own business. Lucas, meanwhile, hung back to watch what happened.

Drawing closer to the dozing beast, Claus's strides shortened as his confidence ebbed away. While the drago wasn't nearly as big as the boy had built it up to be in his imagination, it was still many times his own size. With each of its deep breaths Claus felt a wave of muggy air blow in his face, fraying the last shreds of his gumption. He came to a standstill once again just out of arm's reach from the animal's snout.

At last the drago seemed to take notice of the human standing in front of it and its eyes lazily opened. Twisting about on its rocky recliner, the beast sucked in a deep breath and stretched its neck and back. Groaning in relief, the drago relaxed again, its nostrils distending with another blast of hot air as it pulled itself closer to inspect its guest.

Frozen in place, Claus's leg twitching nervously, but he refused to run no matter how much he was sweating. He nearly lost it when the drago leaned in close with one eye: the one that had been replaced with a machine the last time he'd seen it. Up close like that, Claus discovered that even the animal's eye, which appeared so small on it, was still the size of a dinner plate. Its arms, tiny as they might be for a beast of that size, were densely muscled and tipped with fearsome-looking claws. Claus felt no bigger than a mole-cricket standing before such a giant.

And then the drago nudged its huge snout into the boy's chest, nearly knocking him over with only a light touch. It closed its eyes with a contented sigh that shook the human like rolling thunder. Claus stepped back to steady himself, but after a few tense seconds he finally understood that the gentle giant in front of him really was exactly what it appeared to be. Sucking in a deep breath, the boy reached out to place his hand on the bridge of the drago's snout, giving it a tentative pat before running his fingers over a spot that had once been marred with a jagged scar.

As far as Claus knew, only cats purred, so he couldn't put a name to whatever noise the giant lizard was making. From what he could tell, though, it was happy. It was a sound that took him back to another lifetime, when he and his brother played with the dragos and all was right with the world. He finally believed it could be that way again.


	43. Homesick

Lucas scanned over the far horizon, his attention perching on one landmark for a few seconds before flitting off in search of the next. He'd seen this same sight many times, and had even been to most of those places. Many of them did look quite different from when he'd last visited, though. As thrilling as the view had been from atop Thunder Tower, there was no beating what Mount Oriander offered. "I spy with my little eye something . . . yellow."

"Yellow, huh?" Claus asked, the wheels already turning inside his head. He sat on the dusty cliff's edge next to his brother, his legs swinging out over the steep drop. "Is it the sun?"

The blonde shook his head. "Nope. Try again."

"Hmm." He should have known it wouldn't be so obvious, but it was pretty hard to think about anything else with it sinking low in the western sky. Claus raised a hand to shield his vision from the sun's oppressive presence and peered over the options he had left to him. "How about the desert?"

Lucas followed his brother's gaze down into the valley below and squinted contemplatively. "That's more brown than yellow."

"C'mon, that's totally yellow!"

"Well it's not the desert," Lucas assured his twin, sidestepping what could easily turn into a whole argument about the color of sand. "Give up?"

"Not a chance." Claus's resolve only grew at his brother's challenge. Digging deep, he unconsciously started chewing on his lip. "What about . . . the beach?"

"Afraid not." The blonde's self-satisfied smirk got more infuriating with each refusal.

"Huh." The redhead rapidly tapped his chin. Perhaps the solution was a little bit closer at hand, he thought. He was on to his brother's tricky ways. "Is it your shirt?'

"Nah."

"My shirt, then?"

"You're way off," Lucas chuckled, casually leaning back with his elbows in the dirt.

"How about your hair?"

"How could I see my own hair?"

"I don't know!" Claus scrunched his face into a pouty expression, which only seemed to highlight the scarlet in his cheeks. Once again, his brother proved himself to have the better eyes, or at least more patience. "Fine, you win. What is it?"

"Sunflowers," Lucas answered with a broad smile.

Claus bristled at his brother's cheeky response. "Sunflowers?! You can't see any sunflowers from here!"

"Sure I can. Look right down there, next to town." Lucas leaned forward, closing one eye and sticking his tongue out the side of his mouth as he pointed toward Tazmily in the distance. "See that big, yellow splotch?" he asked. "That's all sunflowers."

"No fair!" Claus huffed and folded his arms in front of himself. "You can barely even see that."

"You can if you know what to look for. They bloom every year around this time." As the words left his mouth Lucas's smile dropped away. Sudden recognition wormed its way up from the back of his mind.

Claus picked up on the shift in his brother's mood right away from the boy's distant expression. "What's up?"

"It's nothing," Lucas responded quietly. "I just realized . . . it's been about a year now, hasn't it?"

While only a few months had passed since he'd recovered his memories, Claus knew that his brother was right. A full year had come and gone since their fateful encounter below New Pork City ended and their lives began anew. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Time really flew by, huh?" Lucas asked with a halfhearted chuckle. "It feels like only yesterday that I woke up to find you dragging me out of bed."

"To be fair, that _was_ yesterday," Claus pointed out with a wry smirk.

Lucas shook his head playfully. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah, yeah," Claus nodded.

The blonde was suddenly very aware of how quiet it could get up in the mountains this late in the day. All the birds and even the wind seemed to have clocked out for the evening, leaving only a stifling silence that lulled him into unwitting meditative melancholy. "I expected something to happen for the longest time, you know? Like this would all turn out to be a dream." Whether that was a fear, or perhaps a secret hope, even Lucas could not be certain. "I'm still here, though. I guess this is just how things are from now on."

"Seems like it," Claus agreed, reflecting on the strangeness of accepting such a thing. "Do you ever miss your old life?"

"Which part?" Lucas snorted. "Having an entire army trying to kill me? Or did you mean watching everything I cared about disappear?"

"Come on. You can't tell me it was ALL bad."

"It's not like you have a lot of fond memories from back then either."

"As a matter of fact there IS one thing I miss."

Lucas grunted in disbelief. "Get real."

"It's true," Claus asserted, sitting up straight. "I miss my wings."

"What, really?" That was something Lucas had never expected to hear from his brother. It had been his long-standing belief that everything about what happened was best left buried.

"Really." Even now, Claus could still close his eyes and remember how it felt to spread his wings and fire up the thrusters. "They were pretty cool. There's nothing like flying up above the clouds with the whole world spread out below you. I bet you never got to do that, huh?"

"Eh," Lucas shrugged. "Been there, done that."

Picking up a trace of jealousy in his little brother's words, Claus rolled his eyes. "Bull crap."

"I did! The ride down from Snowcap Mountain was pretty wild."

"I bet you had your eyes closed the whole time," Claus teased.

"No way."

"Did you puke?"

". . . Maybe," Lucas confessed meekly.

Claus giggled like a little kid. "Hee hee hee! I knew it!"

At least his brother was enjoying himself, Lucas thought as he smiled bashfully. "Well you might not be able to fly anymore, but a view like this must be the next best thing."

"I'll give you that," Claus agreed. "Though actually, the thing I liked best about my wings was the chance to be on my own for a little while. Those Pigmasks always crowded around me otherwise. You ever get a good whiff of those guys? They reeked! It was because those stupid uniforms got all hot and sweaty, not to mention itchy."

Lucas chuckled, recalling his own brief time playing the part of the Pigmasks' Commander. "Yeah, I noticed."

Claus breathed deeply, filling his lungs with fresh mountain air. "But when it was just me, all alone up in the sky, it was different. That was the closest thing I had to freedom."

Lucas sensed an opening to get at a part of his brother's life that he knew so little about. "You don't really talk much about what it was like for you."

"Yeah, well, let's just say I'd rather not think about it too much."

And just like that, the opening slammed shut. "Sorry."

"Forget about it," Claus dismissed the apology. "So how about you? Is there anything you miss?"

It didn't take long for Lucas to bring something to mind. In spite of his earlier grousing, even he couldn't deny that there was something absent from his new life. "Yeah, actually: Duster and Kumatora. We made a great team. Oh sure, at first we worked together because we all wanted the same thing, but the longer it went on, the closer we got. They were the best friends I ever had. I _literally_ trusted them with my life. It was almost like having a family again."

"I bet that felt nice."

"They couldn't replace the real thing," Lucas was quick to point out, "but it did help. With them around I didn't feel quite so . . . 'homesick' I guess."

"Homesick?"

"Yeah." Lucas rubbed his neck, fretting over whether he was making sense. "With all the crazy places we went and the weird things we saw, it got pretty overwhelming. There were times when I'd have given anything to be back where stuff made sense; somewhere normal. Without you and mom there our house didn't feel like much of a home anymore, though, and with the town changing so much, the closest thing to 'normal' I could get was being with Boney, Duster and Kumatora."

Claus couldn't help but laugh. "You must've been desperate if Kumatora seemed normal."

"Well maybe not 'normal'," Lucas admitted, "but she's no weirder than you."

The redhead balked at the comparison. "If you say so."

"Anyway, it doesn't matter now, right? You're back and those two forgot all about me."

Lucas's regret at that last part did not slip past his brother unnoticed. "Do you still get homesick? 'Cause I do."

"You do?"

"Yeah." As much as Claus hated looking vulnerable, he'd learned to make an exception for Lucas. The last year had proven him worthy of such a rare privilege. "I know what you mean about the house not feeling like home anymore. It hasn't felt the same ever since we got back from the castle."

Lucas nodded along without saying a word.

"And now I can't find my 'somewhere normal where stuff makes sense'," Claus continued. "I just want to go home again, but I don't even know where that is anymore."

"Wow," Lucas gasped. "I didn't have a clue."

"Don't worry about it," Claus sighed, relieved to have finally said it out loud. "It's not like I'm asking you to fix me; I just needed to get that off my chest."

"I get it, actually," Lucas reassured his twin. "Waking up here after I pulled the last Needle was . . . Well, calling it 'weird' doesn't even come close. As much as it looked like home, it sure didn't feel like it."

"How'd you get over it?"

"Honestly? I didn't. I just got used to the new normal after a while." Lucas had often told himself things would feel right again. He'd believed it with all his heart, but now, a year on, he could see that nothing had changed. "It was the same after mom died, too. As different as my life was all of a sudden, it kept moving on whether I liked it or not. I hated the way things were, but I had to keep going. The sun still rose in the morning and I'd still need to eat sooner or later. At least I got pretty good at making omelets."

"You'll have to let me taste for myself sometime," Claus suggested, only half-joking.

"When I woke up here I thought I'd feel like I was finally home. No such luck." Lucas let out a big, disappointed sigh. "It turned out to be a whole new world to get used to, every bit as unfamiliar as the one without you and mom in it. I finally get what people mean when they say you can't go home again."

Eager to lift his brother's spirits, Claus pounced on the first solution that sprang to mind. "You could try getting in touch with Duster and Kumatora."

Wincing at the thought, Lucas couldn't help but point out the first roadblock in the way of that idea. "I don't think they'd be too happy with me. Not after what happened the last time we saw them."

Undeterred, Claus simply asked, "What have you got to lose?"

Lucas opened his mouth to argue the point, only to realize that his relationship with his one-time dearest friends was now non-existent. "I guess you're right about that," he admitted. "Not that I'd even know where to look for them."

"They said they were looking for the Dragon, right?"

"Yeah, for all the good that does us."

"At least it's a place to start," Claus nodded proudly. "Think they'll ever find it?"

"I wish I knew."

The breeze shifted then, sending a gust of cool air up Claus's back. Without even realizing it, he'd brought up the very thing they'd both dreaded talking about ever since the day they'd last seen Duster and Kumatora. He bowed his head, looking away from his brother. "So, um, speaking of the Dragon . . . Are you ready to talk about what we're gonna do?"

"I guess we should," Lucas reluctantly agreed. "What do you think?"

"You go first," Claus insisted, his nerves giving him goose bumps all up and down his arms.

"Oh. Okay." Lucas swallowed anxiously. "Hey, can I ask something first?"

"Sure."

"If the Dragon let you pick whether or not you'd remember everything once you came back to life, which would you choose?"

Claus pondered the question. As upset as he'd been about discovering his stolen memories, he hadn't given much thought to whether it would have been better had they remained lost. "I'm not sure. I would have wanted the option, though."

"Yeah, I figured as much," Lucas nodded understandingly. "I was talking to Leder. He, um . . . he says you're right."

"He did?"

Lucas scratched his head, still uncertain whether he understood the bell-ringer's point. "I think so. That guy's kinda hard to figure out."

"No kidding," Claus concurred.

"It'd be a whole other thing if the Dragon asked before taking away everyone's memories, don't you think?" What Lucas wouldn't give for that simpler world. "But it didn't."

"Funny," Claus snickered to himself. "Here I was getting ready to say _you_ were the one who got it right."

Lucas turned to face his brother again with one eyebrow arched. "You're kidding."

"I was talking to mom, and . . ."

"And what?'

". . . And I'm, uh, sorry," Claus confessed. "I overreacted 'cause I was mad and looking for someone to blame. You, the Dragon, anybody really. That wasn't fair."

"Wow." Dumbstruck by his brother's admission, Lucas was left with one aching question. "So what do we do then?"

"The Dragon might not have given us a choice, but we've still got one," Claus pointed out, cutting to the heart of the problem as only he could. "No matter how good its intentions might have been, it still did something bad. We can try and put a stop to it if we want, but we don't HAVE to."

Hearing his brother spell it out so cleanly, Lucas knew the truth. Maybe he'd known all along but refused to listen. Perhaps old habits really did die hard. "For three years, I waited for things to get better on their own, Claus, but they only got worse and worse. Until one day when I stopped waiting and did something about it." Wringing his hands, Lucas reflected on his adventure, the good times and bad alike, and how his efforts were never good enough until he came out on the other side. He wondered if he'd have the strength to go through it all again, but when he looked at his brother sitting beside him he knew the answer to that. "I care about you and mom. I want to keep you safe, but closing my eyes and hoping the problem goes away won't do that."

"Of course you'd say as much," Claus responded with a knowing grin. "I guess we'll be looking for this Dragon together then. Somebody's gotta keep your butt out of the fire."

"Promise me one thing, okay?" Lucas insisted in a dead-serious tone. "If it looks like anyone might get hurt, we turn around and forget all about it. We're not putting anyone's life at risk for this."

"C'mon, you know I wouldn't—"

"Claus," Lucas cut him off by staring him right in the eye. "Promise."

"Okay, okay. I promise: we'll all make it out of this in one piece." Despite his seemingly flippant tone, there was no denying the earnestness of Claus's words. He was never going to break a promise to his brother again. "Satisfied?"

The muscles in Lucas's neck were still bound up in knots, but he did relent. "It'll have to do."

"You wait and see," Claus said, sounding almost giddy with excitement. "We'll find that Dragon, and when we do I'll . . . I dunno, punch it in its big, dumb nose?"

"When you say it out loud it sounds like a pretty bad plan," Lucas confessed.

"Do I ever come up with any other kind?"

"This might be a new low," the blonde chuckled. "How about we start by asking it not to erase anyone's memories again?"

"Seems crazy to me, but I'm sure you can make it work."

" _We'll_ make it work," Lucas countered.

Claus waved the suggestion off with a smile. "Hey, I'm just the idea guy. You can be the one to make puppy dog eyes at the giant monster."

"No way. This was your scheme from the start."

"Yeah, but you're way better at this 'hero' stuff," Claus answered modestly.

"Then it sounds like you need the practice."

Backed into a corner, Claus sighed and gave in. "Together, then?"

"To the end of everything," Lucas swore.

There was no going back now, and Claus knew it. At least they had a path forward, though. Where it led to, neither of them could say, but they'd walk it together.

"Well?" Lucas asked, his voice cutting through the still air like a blade.

"Well what?"

"It's your turn."

"Oh! Right," Claus realized to his embarrassment. "I spy with my little eye something . . ."


	44. The Girls from Nowhere

The familiar jangle of a bell announced Angie's arrival at the bazaar. As soon as she stepped inside she was assailed by the fragrance of fresh-cut flowers, no doubt meant to mask the shop's own musty smell. Vases dotted the room, stuffed to bursting with summer blossoms in every color of the rainbow, and tucked in between them were stacks of boxes on boxes. A few of them sat empty with their contents sorted onto the shelves, but most were still waiting to be unpacked. Upon seeing whose shoulders that job fell on, Angie instantly regretted the course that led her here today. It all began with a knock on her door.

"Could you get that, dear?" Caroline called from the kitchen.

"Sure, mom," Angie agreed, reluctantly rising from her seat. They hadn't been expecting any guests, but people in Tazmily had a habit of popping in unannounced. Of course the knock itself already offered clues as to who was on the other side of the door. For instance, the mere fact that they bothered knocking at all meant it wasn't Fuel. Not that he came over much lately.

After sweeping her hands over her yellow sundress to smooth the wrinkles, Angie turned the knob and swung the door open to reveal Nana standing on the other side, a far-off look painted on her face. "Oh! Good morning, Nana," she greeted the girl.

Plainly caught off guard despite having just knocked on the door, Nana stood up straight. "Angie! Hi! How are you?"

"I'm fine," she replied coolly. "What brings you by?"

"Oh gosh, I'm not interrupting anything am I?" Nana asked with a stricken expression. "I can come back later. Or not, if you don't want me to. Actually, just forget it. I can, um – I'll go now."

"No, no, you're fine," Angie cut the blonde off before she could dig herself any deeper. "Did you want to hang out or something?"

"Yes. Er, no. Maybe?" Nana's indecisiveness was nothing new to Angie, although it did make it hard to follow her at times. "It's more like . . . like I need your help with something."

"What with?"

"You know how the festival's coming up soon, right?" Nana asked hopefully. "I mean, OBVIOUSLY you know. How could you not? It's all everybody's been talking about, what with Mister Pusher making sure it'll be ready on time and Mister Wess making fireworks and Miss Brenda asking everyone what they're bringing for the potluck because she doesn't want to end up making the same thing as someone else like she did a couple years ago and it turned into this whole _thing_ between her and Miss Abbey even though Miss Abbey didn't even know there was a problem but Miss Brenda was crabby about it and wouldn't talk about anything else for WEEKS, so—"

"What about the festival?" Angie asked as soon as she could get a word in.

"Oh! Sorry, I started to ramble again," Nana apologized. She was extra fidgety that morning, as if she had more energy than she knew what to do with. "I'm trying to get better about it, but, um . . . A-anyway, you're going, aren't you? I mean pretty much everyone's going."

Angie did her best to hide her grimace. Nana was right about one thing: all anybody seemed to do lately was talk about that stupid festival. "I'm not sure, actually."

Nana's rosy complexion paled at the revelation. "Oh no. I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have assumed."

"It's fine, Nana. What did you need my help with?"

"Well you see, I want to look good for the festival," Nana explained. "I want to try something new. Different! I'm always wearing the same silly dress and doing my hair the same old boring way. Just once I want to stand out. I want people to look at me and say 'wow'."

"So why come to me?"

"Because I don't know what I'm doing," Nana confessed. "But you? You know so much more than me when it comes to clothes and makeup and hair and um . . . and boys."

"Nana, are you—" Normally it was a constant struggle to keep the blonde from recounting her every passing thought, but she was being downright reserved. "Are you going to ask Lucas to go to the festival with you?"

"N-no!" she yelped excitedly, her cheeks flushing before she'd even finished her exclamation. "I just want him to notice me. Is that wrong?"

"No way," Angie giggled. "It's about time you did something to get his attention. Boys can be so dense sometimes."

"It's not like that," Nana insisted. "There just aren't that many chances to get dressed up, so I thought it might be fun."

"Uh-huh," the brunette nodded. "Well since it's for a good cause, I guess I can lend you a hand."

"Really?"

"Sure. At least somebody will get to enjoy the festival." Angie turned around and raised her voice. "Hey mom! I'm going out for a little while!"

"Don't stay out too late!"

It was exactly the kind of distraction Angie needed at that moment: dealing with someone else's issues. She may not have had a date of her own to look forward to, but living vicariously wasn't so bad. A short walk across the street later and the pair found themselves at the bazaar.

"Hey there!" Richie called out, looking up as soon as she heard the bell. "Come on in!"

"Hi Richie," Nana responded, sidestepping Angie on her way inside. "You're minding the bazaar today?"

"Yeah, well, no one's more surprised than me," Richie groused. "My stupid brother was supposed to be doing this, but he's whining about his hay fever again. If you ask me, I think he just didn't want to help unpack the new merchandise. Anyway, what can I get you?"

"I need a dress," Nana explained.

"Let me guess: something for the festival, right?" Richie asked, knowing that was the topic on everyone's lips lately. "Well you've come to the right place. My dad brought all these boxes in this morning so I'm not sure what we've got, but look around."

"Do you think you'll have anything in my size?" Nana worried.

"Oh definitely," Richie reassured her. "There's always a big demand for nice clothes this time of year, so my dad grabs up as much of that stuff as he can get his hands on. I was actually thinking I'd snag the best dress for myself, but it's yours if you find it first."

"Thanks, Richie!" Nana cheered appreciatively. "Come on, Angie, let's start looking. Isn't this is exciting?"

"Mm-hmm," the aloof brunette grunted.

The girl in pink cocked her head to the side. "Angie? Is something wrong?"

"I'm fine," Angie growled. "C'mon, Nana; pick out an outfit and let's go."

Richie rolled the sleeves of her orange dress up her arms as she cracked open another package. "Don't be a stick in the mud. The hunt is the best part."

Angie didn't move from her spot by the door. If anything she was putting down roots there. "Tch."

"Sheesh. What crawled up her butt?" Richie whispered.

Lowering her voice, Nana leaned in close to answer. "I was wondering the same thing, but I didn't want to be rude. I think something's bothering her, like maybe she got in a fight with her mom or she lost something or she could have a hole in her sock; I know whenever I get a hole in _my_ sock it can ruin the day because I hate the feeling when my toes poke through so I wind up walking funny to keep it from riding up but it never totally works and my feet get sore from walking like that, but I can't darn my socks in the morning because it takes FOREVER so instead I walk around with it all day long and then I have to stay up late and I prick my fingers on that needle every single time."

"You do know I can hear you, right?" Angie interrupted.

"Well? What's up?" Richie asked.

Angie glowered at her. "Mind your own business."

"Well excuse me for asking. I guess I'll just have to keep my mouth shut from now on then."

"You won't see me complaining," Angie replied with a sour huff.

Richie fumed, but just as she was about to unload on the other brunette she suddenly turned around and went back to unpacking boxes. She wasn't about to let Angie have the satisfaction of getting under her skin so easily. As far as she was concerned she wasn't going to say one more word until she got an apology.

Unfortunately, Richie's decision left Nana in the middle of a most awkward silence. As anyone who knew the poor girl could attest, awkward silences were her Achilles' heel. "Oh no," she gulped. The only other sound came from the squeaky floorboards and the frustrated unpacking of parcels. "Come on, you two, please don't do this. You can't let me be the only one who does any talking. We all know that won't end well. I'll start rambling about something totally pointless like I always do until one of you stops me or I say something super-duper embarrassing like that time at the beach when I told Lucas he looked good in his swim trunks but I wanted him to know that he looked fine wearing anything so I said he'd look good without them, too, but then Claus started laughing like it was the funniest thing he ever heard because he thought that I meant I wanted to see Lucas naked and of course Lucas was so embarrassed that his face was almost as red as his trunks."

With a deep breath, Nana managed to quiet her impulse to fill the silence, but sadly too late for either her or Lucas's dignity. If the stillness inside the little wooden building was bad before, suddenly finding herself stared at by the other two girls had made things much worse.

"Did that really happen?" Richie asked, breaking her self-imposed silence.

Nana covered her face with both hands. "See?! I did it again!"

"Look, you pick out something nice and I'll meet you outside," Angie offered, taking a step back toward the door before she'd even finished speaking. Whatever Nana's reason for asking her to come along, she obviously wasn't helping.

Dropping her hands at a moment's notice, Nana practically jumped at Angie. "But I don't know what to pick!" she pleaded. "I need you here."

Angie bit her lip. Nana DID need help, though not necessarily from her. "Can't you ask Richie?"

Nana looked absolutely crestfallen at the suggestion. "Please don't go, Angie. I know nobody likes spending time with me because I talk too much and my stories are really long and boring and they don't make sense a lot of the time but I really, really wanted to have fun today since you've been sorta down lately and if you leave now then it'll mean I made things worse."

Angie felt a swell of sympathy for her friend, which escaped her lips as a defeated sigh. "It's not you, Nana."

The blonde only seemed to shrink down. "Everyone says that."

"No, really! It's this whole thing with the festival."

"I thought you loved this time of year," Nana pouted.

Angie cast her eyes down at the floorboards. "Yeah, well, not right now."

"How come?"

Richie dropped the now empty box she'd been unpacking and spoke up as if she'd found her voice tucked inside. "I know what it is. You're mad that Fuel hasn't asked you to go with him, huh?"

"No!" Angie bristled. "As if I'd want to spend the day with that slob. Have you seen what he's like around food? He chews with his mouth open, wipes his hands on his shirt, and doesn't even say 'excuse me' when he burps. It's disgusting."

"Oh absolutely," Richie gave an understanding nod. "You could do sooo much better than him."

"Right?" Angie snorted. "Plus he's so thoughtless. He stopped coming around asking for cookies and he never even said why. Not so much as an 'I'm busy'."

"What a jerk," Richie sympathized.

"Why not ask him what happened?" Nana suggested.

The blonde could be shockingly naïve about some things. She was lucky to have Angie there to fill her in. "Because then he'd think I care, which I don't."

"Of course not," Richie confirmed.

Her lack of concern aside, this situation with Fuel had been gnawing at Angie for a while. At first it was almost a relief to not have him on hand at all hours, but by the time summer rolled around his unexplained absence had grown into a true sore spot. "Is he mad at me?" she asked, not for the first time, but certainly the first time with an audience. "Was it something I did?"

"Of course not," Richie chided her friend with a click of her tongue. "Whatever's up with him isn't your fault. You know Fuel gets spooked over nothing."

"It's true!" Nana piped up, her enthusiasm at having something helpful to say shining through. "He usually runs away if he so much as sees me walking toward him."

"There's gotta be SOME explanation though," Richie reasoned as she hopped up to sit on a vacant countertop. "You two didn't, um, say anything to him, did you?"

"I wouldn't even dream of it," Nana said, aghast.

Richie simply shook her head. "Nope."

"Good," Angie confirmed, "'cause I wouldn't want him to think you were serious about me liking him."

"It's not like it'd be the end of the world," Richie muttered.

That caught the brunette's ear. Angie crossed her arms, assuming a guarded posture. "Richie, are you sure you didn't say anything to Fuel?"

"I didn't! Cross my heart."

Angie tweaked her eyebrow. "Did Nichol?"

"Huh?"

"Richie . . ."

She hesitated, cursing her honesty as her smile faltered ever so slightly. "Look, it's not MY fault if my dumb brother said something."

Gritting her teeth, Angie leaned forward as if to pounce. "It is if you put him up to it!"

"I did no such thing." Richie brushed her bangs out of her eyes. As far as she was concerned, Angie's tendency to blow things out of proportion was what led to this mess in the first place. "But even if I HAD then it would be for your own good since it's obvious that you never would have said something yourself."

"Oh my God, you're such a busybody!"

"Look, I don't know what Fuel's deal is any more than you do," Richie mused as she rolled her sleeves back down and crossed her arms defensively, "but if you want to get things back on track then you might have to actually go and TALK to him for once."

Angie scoffed. "Gee, life must be so easy when you know _literally_ everything, huh?"

Richie rolled her eyes. ". . . Or you can let it work itself out. That's fine too."

"Please stop fighting," Nana cut in before things could get out of hand. "I know you only want to help, don't you Richie?"

"Yeah," she nodded.

"And Richie's not the one you're upset with, is she Angie?"

The blonde had a point, Angie realized. "I guess not."

"Great!" Nana beamed. "Then let's try not to take out our frustrations on one another. Okay?"

"Uh-huh," Richie agreed meekly. "Sorry for being so nosey."

Angie knew when to swallow her pride. "Sorry for being such a jerk today."

"It's okay," Richie forgave her. "I just don't want you to lose your mind because some stupid boy didn't ask you to the festival."

Nana agreed wholeheartedly. "Yeah! It's not like Richie's moping around just because Claus hasn't asked her."

Richie's eyes went wide. "Nana!"

"Oops!" the blonde squeaked. "S-sorry."

Gawking in disbelief, it took Angie a few seconds to lift her jaw off the floor. "Really, Richie? Claus?"

"Don't ask," the other brunette grumbled, hiding behind her hand.

"I swear I didn't mean to say that," Nana explained hastily. "It sorta slipped out. How does this always happen to me? I try and I try and I try to keep my mouth shut, but I can't help it. No wonder no one likes talking to me."

"Oh well," Richie shrugged. "I guess I was kinda asking for that, wasn't I?"

Angie laughed, the first good laugh she'd had in days. "Maybe a little."

"Promise you won't say anything to him?" Richie asked hopefully.

"Yeah, yeah. Your secret's safe with me," Angie agreed. "I can't speak for Nana though."

"I'll try to do better," Nana offered. "To be fair, he _does_ run off whenever he sees me coming, so it shouldn't be a problem."

"It'll have to do," Richie sighed.

"I'm just surprised is all," Angie continued. "Weren't you the one saying he had a crush on somebody?"

"I never found out who," Richie acknowledged. "Not that I think it was me, of course, but . . . it'd sure be nice."

Angie gave a noncommittal shrug. "Hey, anything's possible. Right, Nana?"

"D-definitely!" Nana nodded. "Of all the girls in town I'm sure he likes you the best, Richie." She was determined not to divulge any more secrets today than she already had.

"Seriously, though, what do you see in Claus?" Angie wondered.

"I dunno," Richie mumbled. "He's nice. What do you see in Fuel?"

"I don't—"

"Hypothetically speaking," she amended herself.

"Hypothetically?" Angie mulled over the question. Not that she'd given it much consideration beforehand, but she could come up with one thing. "He makes me laugh. What about you, Nana? What makes Lucas worth getting all dressed up for?"

Smiling bashfully, Nana said, "I wouldn't want to bore you."

"You won't," Richie told her. "Now fess up."

The girl in pink smoothed her hair back self-consciously. She was rarely the center of attention and for the most part that suited her just fine, but after her friends had shared it would be rude not to do the same. "Well . . . I'm sure it'll sound silly, but he listens to me," she began humbly. "I mean he really, _really_ listens. Not like with most people: whenever I try to tell a story or say what's on my mind or just carry on a conversation with them I get nervous and start rambling about the most random nonsense until they tune me out, but that only makes me babble more and more until I lose the plot entirely. Lucas is different though. No matter how much I blather on, he listens. Sure, he might zone out a little, but he really seems to care what's on my mind. It's reassuring. With him I'm not just saying things to say them; it's like he's the one person I can really talk to. Even if I have nothing at all to say, he still cares. Everyone say he's quiet, but I think he's too busy worrying about others to have much to say for himself."

Once Nana had finished, Richie gave an impressed whistle. "Sheesh. You really put some thought into that."

"Yeah, no kidding," Angie agreed.

Nana dipped her head apologetically. "Sorry. Was that too much?"

"No, you're fine," Angie chuckled. "If anything I want to make sure you get the perfect dress now."

The blonde's eyes shone with hope. "Do you really think it'll help?"

"It couldn't hurt," Angie shrugged. "But honestly? If he doesn't like you as you are then he's not worth your time."

A smile spread between Nana's cherry-red cheeks. "Thanks!"


	45. The Way to a Man's Heart

Cerulean Beach: so named for the color of the sky on cloudless summer days like this one, perfectly mirrored in the tranquil sea that spread out across an endless horizon. On most days the only noise came from cawing seabirds and the surf gently lapping against the shore. Today, however, was not most days. It was the one day per year that this beach saw more souls treading its pristine sand than any other. This was the day of the festival.

The Nowhere Islands never had a booming population, but with everyone gathered together all in one place there was scarcely enough room to stand. Friends, neighbors, and more than a few non-human guests crowded around, merrily mingling at the buffet table that spanned nearly the entire space between the two lonely houses on shore, or cavorting by the rough and worn picnic tables set up on the sand. Yet even as the cacophony from so many people drowned out the dull roar of the waves, they too were brushed aside by the jazzy stylings of DCMC, playing their greatest hits from a stage tucked between water's edge and a rocky rise, playing for an audience that cheered them on from the slapdash dance floor in front of them.

Among all those sights, sounds, and of course the mingling smells of tantalizing treats to tempt the taste buds, there stood a pair of twins. They both smiled and waved at passers-by, at least until the older one caught sight of the buffet and his mouth began to water.

"Oh wow, Bronson made his famous ribs!" Claus gasped, his eyes growing wide enough to match his appetite. "I bet I can eat twice as many as you."

Lucas gave a hearty chuckle. Even after all that happened in the last year, his brother sounded the same as ever. "Maybe you should take it easy, Claus. Your meds don't mix well with fatty foods, remember?"

"But think of the ribs, Lucas!" Claus insisted with quivering, pouty lips. "The riiiibs."

"Suit yourself," Lucas rolled his eyes, "but don't come crying to me when you're stuck in the bathroom all night long."

An eager grin crossed the redhead's face and he gave his brother a knowing nod. "Worth it."

"Well the line's over there." Lucas pointed toward the buffet table. From where they stood, he could easily make out Lighter and Isaac, chatting with one another as they slowly piled on as much food as their plates could carry. Lucas questioned the wisdom of wearing their lumberjack getups on such a warm day. At least Lighter didn't have long sleeves to stifle him, but flannel and trousers were not exactly beach attire. Bateau was there too, although he'd sensibly donned shorts and a t-shirt for the day.

As soon as he saw the line, Claus tugged at his brother's arm. "Come with me, would ya?" he begged. "I don't wanna get stuck talking with a bunch of boring grownups."

Despite his twin's urging, Lucas's feet remained planted right where they were. "I'm not hungry yet. Breakfast was only a few hours ago."

"You take one whiff of those ribs and try telling me that. I dare you."

"Relax, would ya?" Lucas suggested with a patient smile. "You're not gonna starve to death in the next ten minutes."

"I dunno about that," Claus intoned as he rolled back and forth on the balls of his feet. "I can do an awful lot if I put my mind to it."

The blonde gave an exasperated sigh and shook his head. "I swear we must've been switched at birth or something 'cause there's no way you're older than me."

"Fine, then," Claus relented, now that he could tell he wasn't making any headway. "If we're not eating, what DO you want to do?"

Lucas threw his shoulder back, relishing his minor victory. "Let's walk around and say hi to everyone. We'll get to see the sights and listen to some music." Of course he knew that even as the winner he'd still have to make one key concession. ". . . And THEN we'll stuff our faces."

As they headed off to enjoy the festival the boys brushed past a pair of men, the shorter of whom was having anything but a relaxing day at the beach.

"Some bouncer you are!" the red-faced Pusher barked, prodding the man in front of him with an accusing finger. "You let a cockroach near the food!"

"First of all, that's no cockroach. That's a mole cricket," the taller, broader man with scraggly, brown hair and a matching beard explained calmly, "and he's a cool dude."

"It's not a 'cool dude'; it's vermin!" Pusher did his best to keep his voice down, lest anyone overhear and panic. Moreover, shouting wouldn't exactly help when he was already overheating from his heavy, brown suit. Even if it meant risking heat stroke, he was bound and determined to look as spiffy as he could. "If people see it hanging around the buffet this whole thing'll turn into one big disaster."

The taller man casually adjusted his suspenders, emphasizing his barrel chest. "It'll be fine, trust me: I got a real good sniff of the guy." He placed his hands on his hips, showing off his bare, burly arms and sucked in a phlegmy breath to demonstrate. Then his expression softened and he leaned in closer to say, "Besides, he brought the most sincere dumplings I've ever seen. I'd feel bad turnin' him away after that."

Watching the scene unfold from the comfort of the shade was Sebastian, draped in a loose-fitting shirt with a fan in one hand and a frosty drink in the other, complete with a little umbrella in it. It was his one day away from waiting on Pusher hand and foot, and nothing in the world was going to get him up from where he sat. He looked over at the two men relaxing beside him and wordlessly nodded. Leder and Nippolyte returned the gesture, holding up their own drinks to toast. There were no graves to dig, and the cross road bell could safely stay unrung for a few hours. Today was a day off for everyone.

Mike, meanwhile, cast his envious eyes on the three men. Sitting comfortably in the shade with a cold drink: he would have done just about anything to join them. Instead he was being dragged forward by both arms. The only shade he was likely to get was under the brim of his hat.

"C'mon, grandpa!" Nichol insisted excitedly. "Get the lead out!"

"Yeah, hurry up!" Richie added. She and her brother were both latched onto their grandfather's wrists and were heading toward the stage.

"Dagnabbit! Can't an old man get a little peace and quiet for himself now and again?" Mike demanded halfheartedly. He never would have volunteered to watch the grandkids if he thought anyone would take him up on the offer. "You darn kids'll be the death of me one of these days."

Alec was too engrossed in conversation to even notice Mike being plied onto the beach right next to him. "I'm telling you, this festival makes me feel like a kid again," he explained while mopping his brow. "In fact, I feel so spry that I was thinking about starting another hiking tour of the whole island. I've gotta keep these old bones of mine in shape somehow."

Reggie nodded supportively and patted the older man on the shoulder. "Reggie digs it. You gotta go where the wind takes you."

Enthralled by the idea of a journey, Mapson flashed a smile. "I can see it in your eyes, Alec: there's no talking you out of it. Well if you need a map, you know there's no better place to get it than the map-loving and map-owning Mapson."

"You're incredible. You're amazing," a bearded man in a green track suit and a beanie cheered him on. "Seriously, you're a real inspiration. We're right behind you, supporting you one hundred percent, from the sidelines."

The four men didn't even notice a parade of mice passing by practically underfoot. The tiny troupe was led by the largest of the bunch, a white mouse mother with large ears and a worried expression on her whiskers.

"Squeak squeak squeak? (Squeekz? Squeekz! Where oh where did he run off to now?)" she asked, peering between the many pairs of human legs in every direction. As if that husband of hers wasn't hard enough to keep track of anyway. "Squeak SQUEAK? (Have you kids seen — wait, where's your sister?)"

Perking up at the question, the first of her children in line took action without a second thought. "Squeak squeak! (Don't worry, mom! I'll find her!)"

"Squeak squeeeak! (Not that way, dummy! Over here!)" the second child shouted as it charged in the complete opposite direction from the first.

"Squeak. (I bet dad knows,)" the third mouse child reasoned. "Squeak. (I'll go ask.)" Before the mother could even object, it too was scattering off like its siblings.

"Squeak squeak! (Don't run off, children!)" the mother mouse scolded them, or at least those who were still close enough to hear her. "Squeak. (Everyone stay together.)"

"Squeak squeak squeak! (Yeah! Mom says stay together!)" her youngest shouted, immediately running after one of the other mice to try and bring them back in line.

Only then did the most oblivious mouse look up to realize its siblings were scampering off in all directions. "Squeak? (Hey, where's everyone going?)" it asked, swiveling its ears around excitedly. "Squeeeak! (Hey wait for meeee!)"

Shaking her head and sighing, the mother mouse probably shouldn't have been surprised. This sort of thing was an all too common occurrence in her little family. "Squeak squeak squeak. (Not again. I swear those siblings of yours take after your father entirely too much,)" she lamented to the last of her children still with her. Unfortunately, as she went to face that last child, she found that one, too, was gone. "Squeak. (Fiddlesticks.)"

Not far away, a magenta mouse with sunglasses and two arms full of pilfered provolone paused only long enough to slick back his pompadour before moving on, right past Flint and Hinawa. Hinawa was looking out to sea, caught up in a daydream even in the middle of everything.

"Boy, folks seem to be havin' a good time, huh?" Flint asked, lifting the brim of his hat slightly.

"They sure are," Hinawa agreed. She took a deep breath and smiled. Even after all these years, she never tired of the ocean's smell.

"Care to join 'em?"

"Hmm?" Hinawa stirred from her reverie. Her husband was offering her his hand.

Flint nodded toward the dance floor. "Ma'am."

Hinawa's face lit up and she placed her hand in his. Her long, dainty fingers threaded themselves through his rough, calloused digits as easily as slipping on a well-worn glove. They walked down together to join the other couples already dancing. Paul and Linda, Abbey and Abbot, and even Salsa and Samba were all there as the band started to play "Bon Voyage, Amigo".

The crowd swooned as the tune began, though none louder than an overexcited musclebound man wearing a sleeveless shirt and swimming trunks. In his euphoria he grabbed hold of whoever was closest. Ocho, the giant octopus to his right, was right there with him, wriggling ecstatically. The girl on his left, though, was less interested in joining in: Kumatora clocked him over the back of his head as soon as she felt his hand on her shoulder. The big guy wasn't too put-off, though, as he and Ocho went right back to fanboying over their favorite band. Even Rope Snake, who was at Kumatora's side, got into the spirit of things and started swaying along to the music.

As far as Wess was concerned, the whole lot of them were making fools of themselves, fawning over those half-wit, no-talent hacks. Sure, the moron and his cohorts had an adoring audience, but youngsters like that wouldn't know real music if it smacked them upside the head. At least that was what Wess told himself as he did his best to suppress a proud smirk before anyone nearby could spot it. Luckily, Claus was too busy spying on somebody else in the crowd.

"Psst. Lucas," he whispered as he prodded his brother in the ribs. "Check it out."

The blonde followed his twin's gaze. "Oh hey, Kumatora came after all," he realized. "I knew that carrier pigeon would do the trick."

"Should we say something?" Claus wondered.

Lucas held back. "Later," he replied with a casual air. "Let's just enjoy the show for now."

That idea suited Claus just fine, who still wasn't too keen on Kumatora after their last meeting. Besides, it gave him a chance to do something he'd wanted to get around to ever since he got his memory back. After hearing the Pigmasks rave about DCMC so much, he couldn't help being curious.

Claus was so fixated that he didn't even notice Angie sidle up next to him. "Wow. They're even better than last year, huh?" she asked.

Startled, Claus whipped around to look at her. "Oh, yeah," he replied. "It's probably 'cause they've got their bassist this time."

"Duster knows that wig isn't fooling anybody, right?" Angie asked in a hushed tone, her eyes flitting between Claus and the stage.

"Beats me," he shrugged noncommittally. "I've never even seen him play with them before, so this is kinda new to me."

Angie squinted in disbelief. "You can't be serious. All that wandering around you've done and you're only seeing them now?"

"It's true;" he said matter-of-factly, "the first time I got to see DCMC play with my own eyes was last year and Duster wasn't there. I wanted to catch one of their shows for a long time, but I was always . . . too busy."

"Since when do _you_ get busy?" Angie asked with a chuckle.

Claus knew she didn't intend to be mean. There was no way she even understood just how much that question stung. Even so, he could feel his day getting worse. "Forget it. Hey Lucas, you ready to—?"

Finally checking on his brother, Claus was stunned to find him otherwise occupied. While Angie was keeping him busy, Nana had swooped in and stolen the blonde boy's attention. She was dressed to the nines, too, in stark contrast to Lucas, who wore the same old striped shirt and denim shorts. The differences didn't stop there, either. Where she was graceful, he was awkward; as she smiled, he returned a goofy grin; and while she blathered on and on about something, he nodded along in silence. But for all their differences, Claus could still see as plain as day that at that moment they were both unmistakably happy.

"I gotta run," Angie excused herself, seeing as her distraction had done the trick. "Thanks for talking, Claus!"

Returning a halfhearted wave, Claus resigned himself to going without Lucas for a while. Nana would have to take a breath sooner or later, but for the time being he'd have to find his own entertainment. It was as good a time as any to pay a visit to the buffet.

Naturally the line for food would leave Claus stuck behind what felt like the two slowest people in town: Jackie and Betsy. Apparently all the inn's guests were at the festival, leaving the inn abandoned for the afternoon and those two free to close their doors. Judging from how they were taking their sweet time, they were in no rush to get back to business as usual. Of course if being stuck behind those two was bad, being stuck in front of Lisa and Caroline was even worse.

"See? See?" Lisa whispered excitedly. "What did I tell you?"

Caroline acquiesced to her friend's prodding and looked toward the hill. "Well I'll be . . ." she gasped.

Whether it was boredom or curiosity that got the better of him, Claus too traced the object of the women's attention to its source: on the ridge above the beach, away from all the hustle and bustle, were Ollie and Tessie standing hand-in-hand.

"Good for them," Caroline went on. "I don't suppose that was your handiwork, was it?"

"No, no, no. That was all their doing," Lisa responded with a modest chuckle. "I just gave them a little push in the right direction."

"Uh-huh," Caroline nodded knowingly. "You should be more careful, dear; somebody's bound to get hurt if you keep on 'pushing' like that."

Lisa waved off the suggestion. "Nonsense. You and I both know this has been a long time coming; where's the harm in helping things along?"

Thankfully, Jackie moved forward just enough that Claus was finally able to sneak a few of Bronson's ribs onto his plate (along with some of Abbey's chicken wings, a dollop of Jonel's potato salad and a biscuit) and make a hasty getaway. He slid his way through the crowd and headed for the picnic tables, strolling right past a second pair of seated women with a less charitable view of the latest news to hit the town's gossip mill.

"Those two are shameless, I'm telling you," Elmore scoffed as she swirled her drink.

"Oh absolutely," Jill agreed emphatically as she watched the offending pair. "The nerve of some people; it's like they think they're invisible."

Elmore tut-tutted. "It's brazen is what it is. The way they go on you'd think the whole world exists for their amusement."

Re-crossing her legs, Jill finally looked back at her companion. "I have half a mind to say something to their faces. A pair of grown women shouldn't be gossiping about their neighbors like that. It's disgraceful, I tell you."

"Too right," Elmore nodded firmly. "I don't see why it's any business of theirs who that son of mine spends time with, even if she _is_ all wrong for him."

Tilting her head to the side, Jill was rather taken aback. "I'm not so sure; a pretty girl like that might be exactly what he needs."

"Pretty?" Elmore exclaimed. "That girl is far, far too plain for my Ollie. Every great man needs a great woman at his back, you know. Being 'pretty' won't cut it."

"Well it's better than nothing," Jill sighed. " _My_ boys must be dead set on breaking my heart. At this rate I'll never have grandbabies."

At that moment, Biff and Butch were thankfully well away from their mother's griping. Goodness knows they'd already heard their fair share of it lately. The festival was supposed to be fun, after all, and they both knew exactly where to turn for that.

"It sure is busy here today, don't you think?" Bud asked his partner in front of their small audience.

"Uh-huh," Lou nodded excitedly. "It looks like everyone in the Nowhere Islands showed up."

"I love seeing so many people coming together."

"It makes me a bit nervous, actually," Lou admitted.

"Why's that?"

"With all these people around, I think this might be the biggest audience we've ever had."

"It'll be fine, Lou," Bud said as he put a reassuring hand on his partner's shoulder. "You just need to be more confident."

"Gee, Bud, you're right," Lou realized. "In that case I'm CERTAIN this is the biggest audience we've ever had."

"You knucklehead!" Bud shouted as his hand went from resting on Lou's shoulder to swatting the back of his head. Biff and Butch cracked up, hooting and clapping loudly as the comedians bowed.

The picnic bench where Claus sat was close enough for him to get a good chuckle at the comedians' antics. The weather-worn wood wasn't exactly what he'd call kind on his backside, but if he wanted a place to eat it was the best option. Thankfully Claus managed to get a whole table to himself since most folks were busy mingling. The other tables were packed with families: Alle and her parents were eating at the next table over, and past them was a third table with Bob, Dona, Jonel and Brenda.

As he bit into a corncob with a satisfying crunch, Claus looked out toward the ocean. Even in the midst of this hubbub, the deep blue water was almost hypnotically placid. Some of the townsfolk seemed to agree: Thomas, Bronson and Matt were all lying on beach towels, staring out over the waves while working on their tans. Dr. Andonuts was there too, although he was still wearing his floral print shirt and was talking with a gaggle of Mr. Saturns, all of whom had telltale splotches of sunscreen smeared on their noses.

A slap on the back put a sudden end to the redhead's sightseeing. "Claus!" a familiar voice shouted in his ear. It was Fuel, all smiles, playfully jostling him. "I was wondering when you'd show up."

"Hey, Fuel," Claus greeted his friend, hastily swallowing a mouthful of corn.

Fuel plopped down on the bench beside him, the teen's normally spiky hair wilting in the afternoon heat. "Boy am I glad to see you."

"Same." Even though he nearly gagged at the smell of Fuel sweating through his t-shirt, it was better than being alone. "How's it going?"

"Better now that you're here," Fuel laughed. "The last thing I needed was to hang out with my dad all day."

Not exactly flattering, but now that his brother had ditched him it wasn't like Claus had anyone better to hang out with either. "Happy to help, I guess."

"So where's Lucas?" Fuel wondered as he turned to scan the crowd. "Isn't he here?"

Claus surreptitiously rolled his eyes. "You'd have to ask Nana."

"Yikes," Fuel winced. "If she's got her claws in him he could be gone for days. Think we should launch a rescue mission?"

"Nah. Let 'em have their fun." Planning a caper like that might be a hoot, but Claus wasn't about to ruin his twin's good time. "Besides, more ribs for me."

"Ooh! Thanks, I was getting hungry." Before Claus could raise a stink, Fuel snatched one of the ribs off his plate and popped it into his mouth.

"Hey!" Claus shouted, shielding his plate with one hand and pushing Fuel back with the other. "Get your own, loser!"

Fuel cackled wickedly. "You weren't gonna eat all that and you know it, dillhole."

"Don't think so, huh?" Claus asked with a devilish smirk. "Sounds like a challenge to me."

" _Everything_ sounds like a challenge to you."

"You're just saying that because you know I could do it."

"No, I'm saying it because I'm HUNGRY," Fuel corrected him as he tried to sneak another bite.

Claus was prepared this time and deftly slapped his friend's hand back. "The line's over there. Knock yourself out."

"C'mon, stop being stingy," Fuel begged. "I'm wasting away over here."

Claus wanted to hold firm, but Fuel was so adorably pathetic that he couldn't say no. "Ugh. Fine," he agreed, sliding his plate between the two of them. "I guess you can have some if you're gonna be a big baby about it."

"Nice!" the brunette cheered as he grabbed a chicken wing. "I knew I could count on you."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm a real saint," Claus grumbled with a mouthful of potato salad. He'd have to work fast if he wanted to stay ahead of Fuel's legendary appetite.

"For real, though, thanks. You didn't have to."

If Claus still had any lingering resentment it all melted away. "What are friends for?"

"So what do you wanna do for the rest of the day?" Fuel wondered while nibbling on his chicken.

"We could sit around, maybe watch the fireworks later," Claus offered. "There's not a whole lot else to do. Any ideas?"

"I dunno." Fuel was quieter than before, downright timid. He cleared his throat, but it didn't help. "You, um . . . you wanna dance? With me?"

Claus's expression immediately soured. "Ha. Ha," he laughed sardonically. "Real funny, jerk."

It was more or less the response he'd been expecting. "I'm serious, dork," Fuel persisted with a meek smile. "You said it yourself: there's not a whole lot else to do."

"Get bent," Claus growled.

Sinking down in his seat, Fuel gave a dejected sigh. "It's fine if you don't want to. No need to bite my head off."

Claus felt his face and ears getting hotter, though whether it was from anger or embarrassment (or more likely some of both) he couldn't tell. "I thought we were cool," he whispered.

"We are!" Fuel insisted loudly. "I just figured it might be fun to, um, 'hang out' like you wanted."

"Like I wanted way back at the start of WINTER, you mean?" Claus asked through clenched teeth.

"Uh-huh," the brunette nodded. Whether Fuel was being oblivious, insensitive, or just plain stupid, none of it – not even that big, dumb grin of his – was winning Claus over at that moment.

"Unbelievable," the redhead hissed. "You sure took your sweet time coming up with an answer, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Fuel acknowledged, "but I never said 'no'."

Claus fumed. If Fuel thought he was getting out of this on a technicality, he had another thing coming. "Well forget it. The offer's off the table."

"Whatever," Fuel sulked. "It was just a suggestion."

Claus angrily grabbed another rib from his plate and shredded the meat off the bone with his teeth. Ripping on one another had been their thing since they were kids, but there were unspoken rules, lines not to be crossed. At least that's how it was supposed to work. "Like you'd even have the guts to go through with it."

Resting his elbows on the table, Fuel looked over out of the corner of his eye. "You're the one who turned me down. Wuss."

"And if I didn't you'd chicken out," Claus countered. "You've got your precious reputation to think about, after all."

A twinge of doubt tugged at Fuel's nerves. Maybe Claus was right. Maybe he wouldn't have gone through with it. Maybe the only reason he suggested it in the first place was because he knew Claus would never agree in a million billion years; he could say he'd been brave without actually having to put his reputation on the line. But deep down he knew there was more at stake. He was tired of being told what to do. Coming here was his choice, and he was going to see it through to the end because it's what he wanted. "Screw it," he snarled. "Who gives a damn what people think of me?"

Claus scrutinized Fuel intensely, hoping to discover behind the brunette's dark eyes just how genuine he was being. "Do you expect me to believe you'd be okay with all the old ladies around here whispering about you behind your back?"

"Whatever happens, happens." At that, the corners of Fuel's lips curved up. It wasn't the broad, boastful grin that he usually wore, but a softer, subtler smile that Claus wasn't sure he'd ever seen until that moment.

Every rational impulse warned Claus not to be taken in. "What's really going on here?" he wondered, the words coming out scarcely louder than a whisper.

Fuel rubbed his hands together anxiously. How could he hope to make Claus understand when even he himself was straining to make sense of it all? He couldn't wrap his head around what he was happening, so he tried speaking from the heart instead. "Look, I'm, uh . . . I'm trying real hard to be honest and stuff," he began. "You make me feel weird." Fuel visibly cringed, but kept going. "But like . . . good weird. I dunno if that means I like you or whatever, but I kinda want to find out."

As he let out a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding, Claus's guard dropped. This wasn't some stupid prank; that much was clear. "Dammit," he cursed under his breath. "Couldn't you have said so, like, six months ago?"

"Heh," Fuel stifled a laugh. "Would you believe me if I said I was too lazy to work it out?"

Claus chuckled at that. "Actually, that's the one explanation I would believe."

"So?" Fuel shrugged. "Feel like dancing?"

Claus looked down at the plate in front of him. Bronson's barbecue ribs, Caroline's buttermilk biscuits, Abbey's rosemary chicken wings, Jonel's famous potato salad: none of it looked quite so irresistible anymore. "Well you've spoiled my appetite. We may as well do _something_."

Fuel shot out of his seat like a spring, ready to lead the way. Claus took his time, committing every moment to memory. He could have warned Fuel about the barbecue sauce lingering on the side of his mouth, but it was more fun this way. For one single moment the whole world seemed perfect, especially the imperfections.

* * *

[I didn't mean to make this the longest chapter of the story so far, but here we are. As always, thank you for reading, for reviewing, and for enjoying.]


	46. Lovesick

The festival was still in full swing as afternoon faded into evening. Exhausted from its long trek, the sun wrapped itself in an amber blanket of sky and crept off to bed in the vast ocean to the west. All else overhead was a dark expanse, pierced only by the flicker of a few stars, soon to be joined by countless more of their kind. Before that could happen, though, a different spectacle took center stage. Thunderous bangs, pops and whistles accompanied a different sort of light show, followed thereafter by oohs and aahs from the crowded beach below.

Two young men sat away from all the hubbub and festivities, all alone at the far end of the cape. Their legs dangled over the water's edge, a few feet above the surf but still close enough to feel its spray. They weren't looking down at the waves or up at the bottle rockets streaking overhead though. Fuel and Claus only had eyes for one another.

"You're lookin' kinda tired, there," Fuel commented with his face mere inches from Claus's.

The redhead matched his friend's unblinking gaze with ease. "Not as tired as you."

"I'm doing just fine."

Grinning with feigned confidence, Claus folded his arms in front of himself and inched close enough that Fuel could feel the heat of his breath. "That makes two of us."

"Good, 'cause I know how much these long, hot, _dry_ days get to you." Fuel's left eye twitched slightly, but he still hadn't blinked.

Claus knew he'd have to lay it on thick if he was going to come out on top. "It's not so bad. Nothing compared to a day in the desert," he noted innocently. "The wind blowing sand in your face; the sun bright enough that it gives you a headache to look at; and the air so hot and dry and heavy that you just wanna flop down in the shade and clooose your eyes."

Fuel wasn't biting. "Nice try, but you'll have to do a lot—"

Bang! An otherwise unassuming firework exploded right above them, spooking both teens and sending them reeling backwards. It took a second or so before they regained their composure and laughed it off.

"You blinked first for sure," Fuel snickered, his pulse still racing from the excitement.

"How could you even tell with your eyes closed, huh?" Claus countered, poking the brunette in the ribs for good measure.

"How could YOU tell when you were too busy pissing yourself?" Fuel poked back.

"Pizzaface."

"Pansy."

"I know you are, but what am I?" As if that retort wasn't already childish enough, Claus stuck his tongue out defiantly.

"Losersayswhat?"

"Huh?"

"Close enough," Fuel declared with a shrug.

With their staring contest resolved, Claus turned his attention up to the fireworks. Fuel hesitated to do the same though. He couldn't help but linger on the redhead for a moment longer, committing his glowing smile and faint freckles to memory. Once he managed to tear his attention away he tried to settle into a more comfortable position, only to find his fingers grazing over something alien in the grass. He instinctively pulled back, only to realize that what he'd touched was Claus's hand. Neither of them said a word, although the slight change of shade on the other boy's face spoke volumes.

"You, uhh," Fuel spoke, stopping short when his voice cracked. Of all the times for that to happen, he thought, it would have to be now. The brunette looked away and coughed into his fist before trying once more. "You wanna go again?"

"Sure!" Claus nodded from behind an excited, if not entirely convincing, grin.

There was another loud pop overhead, followed by the typical awe from the beach. Fuel realized that no one was paying them any mind all the way over here. "We could make things a little more interesting, if you want."

"A bet?" Claus inquired. He liked the sound of this already. "What'd you have in mind?"

"How about . . ." Fuel paused, partially for dramatic effect, but mostly to gather the nerve to actually say the rest. "The loser has to kiss the winner?"

Claus stuttered as he wondered whether Fuel was being serious. Maybe it was best not to ask. "I knew you were a perv," he chuckled. "But I guess if you really wanna, then you're on."

The pair leaned in close and fixed their gazes on one another. As their eyelids rapidly narrowed, they realized that neither of them cared about winning. If it ever came up though, they'd both swear that the other one blinked first.

"Claus!"

The redhead almost jumped out of his skin at the sound of his name, scrabbling away from Fuel so fast that he nearly slipped right into the water. Fuel was hardly any better, springing to his feet and vigorously wiping his mouth on his forearm.

"There you are," Lucas chided his twin as he trotted over. "I was looking everywhere for you."

"H-hey," Claus greeted the blonde meekly.

It didn't take a psychic to sense the tension in the air. "I'm not interrupting, am I?" Lucas asked suspiciously.

Claus shook his head. "Nope! All good here! Right, Fuel?"

"Y-yeah!" the brunette gave a shaky response. "I was actually just going so, um, I'll see ya. Around. Soon. Bye!" Before either of the twins could react, Fuel was already sprinting away. It wasn't the first time he'd suddenly run off like that, but Claus was in a far better mood now than the last time it happened.

Still unsure what he'd walked in on, Lucas scratched his head. "Huh. What's up with him?"

"I dunno." That tight-lipped response was all Claus could offer before he looked away.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Claus said while tugging at the collar of his shirt. "Did it get hotter all of a sudden?"

Stepping around to meet his brother face-to-face, Lucas frowned with concern. "No, but it looks like you might have a sunburn. You got really red today."

A more perfect excuse Claus could not have asked for. "Yeah, that's gotta be it."

"Hang on," Lucas realized. "What were you two—?"

"Nothing!"

All was quiet for a beat before Lucas responded. "O-oh." It finally dawned on him that his timing left a lot to be desired. "So should I go, or . . .?"

If nothing else, Claus knew when to throw in the towel. "Don't bother," he said with a sigh, "he already left."

"Okay," Lucas winced. "Sorry about, y'know, all that."

Shrugging off his brother's misstep, Claus plopped back down on the ground again. "Forget it. What's up?"

"Right!" There was a reason he'd come over here in the first place. "I talked to Kumatora and Duster. It sounds like they have a plan."

"Yeah?"

"Uh-huh." Lucas sat cross-legged at his brother's side. "They'll even let us tag along when they go to the castle tomorrow if we want."

"Neat," Claus nodded.

"There's some more stuff, but it didn't really make any sense to me," Lucas explained. "If you want we can go talk to 'em some more."

"Sure, let's go." Claus went to stand, but a sudden head rush made reconsider and he sunk down even lower. "On second thought, never mind. I'm feeling a little lightheaded right now."

"Oh." The wheels in Lucas's mind spun until he realized why his brother might not be up for walking around at the moment. His eyes went wide with embarrassment. "Oh! Oh jeez, I'm sorry! I didn't – Forget it. I'll just go."

"No, spaz. Like ACTUALLY lightheaded," Claus corrected his twin. As flattered as Fuel would surely be by Lucas's assumption, that wasn't the issue he was having at the moment. "Get your mind out of the gutter."

"Of course! I was just, uh, kidding around," Lucas chuckled. "I didn't think you meant . . . A-anyway, it's fine. We can just hang out here instead. How was your day?"

Relieved by the change of subject, Claus smiled. "It was good. It was really, really good."

"I sorta figured," Lucas confessed.

"How was yours?"

"Also good," Lucas nodded modestly.

"How's Nana?"

"She's okay."

A knowing grin spread across Claus's face. "I bet she is."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"C'mon," the redhead whispered, "don't play coy with me, 'lover boy'."

And like that, Claus was no longer the only one with a scarlet complexion. "Shut up!"

"Aw, what's the matter?" Claus snickered. "Don't tell me you're embarrassed by your _girlfriend_."

"She's not my girlfriend!" Lucas yelped.

Claus erupted with giggles at his brother's reaction. "Hee hee hee! You're too easy, Lucas. Too easy."

"It's not like it's a big deal or anything," the blonde pouted. "All we did was talk for a little while."

"What'd you talk about? How much you _looove_ her?"

"Psh. No," Lucas scoffed. "Just . . . stuff. Food, music, the weather, all the usual junk. Of course once she saw you and Fuel on the dance floor she had loads to say about that."

Claus's playfulness vanished in an instant. "Y-yeah?" he squeaked. "What'd she say?"

Lucas could have let his brother squirm a little longer. Maybe it'd serve him right, under different circumstances. "She wasn't surprised."

"Bull crap," Claus muttered.

"It's true," Lucas nodded assuredly.

Still unconvinced, Claus shook his head. "No way."

"Why would she lie?"

"To pretend like she's smarter than she really is. Why else?" It would hardly be the first time Claus had seen someone try and pull off a move like that.

"I don't think so," Lucas protested. "Nana's super observant. You'd know that if you talked to her more."

Whether or not Nana was clued in, there was a much bigger question on Claus's mind. "What about everyone else?" he asked while wiping the sweat from his brow. "Half the town's probably talking about me 'n Fuel by now."

The fret in Claus's voice wasn't lost on his brother. "Not as far as I heard. Lots of talk about Ollie and Tessie, though."

While not as reassuring as he might have hoped, that news was still some small relief to Claus. "Better them than me I guess."

With his brother's inquiry out of the way, Lucas couldn't hold back on raising his own any longer. "So . . . not to be nosey or anything, but are you two, like, a thing now?"

"A thing?"

"You know: a couple," Lucas clarified. " _Dating_."

The question left Claus gaping. Maybe it was one he should have asked himself. "I dunno."

"You don't know?" Lucas gawked.

Shaking his head, Claus said, "Not a clue."

Seeing his brother and his best friend dancing with one another had already made this day an odd one in Lucas's book, but Claus could always find a way to make it even stranger. "Huh. Weird."

"What's weird?"

"It's just not like you at all," Lucas expounded. "I figured you'd be carving your names in a tree with a heart around 'em by now."

"Gimme a break. I don't get THAT far ahead of myself," Claus laughed. "Not all the time."

More rockets streaked overhead, lulling the brothers into a comfortable silence. The brilliant colors zipping through the night sky reminded Lucas of the fireflies they used to chase in their youth. What stood out to Claus, on the other hand, was the smoky scent of gunpowder. He shut his bleary eyes, trying to push aside the headache that was sapping all his strength and call to mind festivals of years long past, but the only memories that aroma conjured in his mind anymore were born of his time among the Pigmasks. The stench of machinery, of rust, of iron and oil: they were all seared into his memory, but none of them more than gunpowder. That scent clung to him like stink on a sheep.

"Hey, Lucas?" Claus asked, his voice sounding smaller than before.

"Hmm?"

"Are you happy?"

Caught off guard by the question, Lucas blinked at his brother in confusion. "Yeah. Aren't you?"

Claus reclined on the grass and facing the darkened sky. "Right now? Sure. It's just . . ."

"Just what?"

"I don't deserve to be." From behind his eyelids Claus could still envision all he'd been through, all the wrongs he'd committed. Even on a day as good as this one his past still haunted him. "Not after what I did."

Lucas didn't respond right away. He wished he could say something that would put Claus's mind at ease, but he knew all too well that the words to do that didn't exist. He could have argued in favor of moving on, putting all that guilt in the past, but he'd feel like a hypocrite if he did. So Lucas did the one thing he could: he stayed by his brother's side.

"Tell me the truth, Lucas," the redhead insisted once it became clear that his twin wasn't going to say anything. "After mom died and I ran away, there was some part of you that blamed me, wasn't there?"

Now that was something which Lucas could answer. "Not even for a second," he asserted.

"How come?"

Lucas looked down at his shoes, their vibrant red and yellow washed out beneath dirt, sand and grass stains. "I was too busy blaming myself."

"Of course you were," Claus scoffed before rolling onto his side. "Nobody can guilt-trip himself over nothing quite like you."

"Nobody but you, maybe," Lucas pointed out. "You and dad both."

Claus scowled. "Great, so I'm turning into dad now."

"If it helps, I don't think you have to worry about losing your hair," Lucas joked.

Claus smirked despite himself. "I wish there was something I could do," he lamented, partly to Lucas but just as much to the impossibly vast universe above him in the slim hope that something, somewhere, would hear his prayer. "Dad doesn't have to remember what he did. You got to save the world. But me? I've got all this guilt and nothing to do with it. I only ever made things worse. I don't deserve to be here. I for SURE don't deserve to be happy."

Lucas could only sigh at his silly brother. "Happiness isn't something to be ashamed of, dummy," he said. "If anything, it proves that you deserved another chance. Isn't that the point of all this? Finding a way to be happy?"

"Or maybe it's all one big guilt trip," Claus moped.

Undaunted by his brother's dour take, Lucas continued in a hopeful tone. "If you want something to do, then do better – _be_ better – not just for yourself but for everyone who cares about you. Me and mom and dad and Boney and . . . and Fuel, too," he said. "I did what I could to save the world. Now you need to make it a world worth living in."

Claus decided that the blonde took after their mother entirely too much. "No pressure, huh?"

"You'll do fine," Lucas reassured him. "If I can learn how to fight then you can learn to crack a smile."

Lucas made a fair point. Both their lives had taken a detour off into the weeds at some point. If he could come out stronger on the other side, then Claus could as well. "It figures that you'd be the one who got to do all the cool stuff."

"Says the guy who can shoot lightning from his mind."

"Whatever you say, Mister Miraculous Healing Powers," Claus giggled. "Then again, I can't be too jealous: between the two of us, I'm the only one who's had his first kiss."

"A whole five minutes ago," Lucas noted. "It's not even that great."

"Like you'd know," the redhead snickered.

"I've met an oxygen machine or two in my time."

"It's SO not the same."

"What, you're some sort of expert now?" Lucas huffed.

"More than you."

The younger twin sighed and rolled his eyes. "Gee, I guess that makes you the cool one then," he conceded with as much sarcasm as he could muster. "Happy?"

Judging from the ear-to-ear grin, Claus was indeed very happy. "That's all I wanted to hear."

"So, cool dude, what do you think?" Lucas asked. "Had enough fun for one night?"

"Yeah, I'm good to go." Claus put on a brave face to disguise just how weak he felt. His headache had only gotten worse, so he was eager to get home but was in no condition to run there. No doubt this was a side-effect from having too much fun. It was worth it.

Later that night, after everyone went to bed, his fever finally broke and something awoke inside Claus.


	47. Delinquent Quintet

A gloved hand slapped down on the stone brick floor, its owner pulling herself up the ladder and once again into the light of day with a grunt. As hot as it was, she'd gladly take sunlight and fresh air over the musty, dusty, dank, and dreary atmosphere in the crypt beneath the decrepit castle's foundations any day. Heaving herself up the last step, Kumatora stumbled out into the inner courtyard of her supposed family home, brushing the pink hair from her eyes and sweat from her brow in one smooth motion.

Rising up to her full height, the princess clapped the dust from her hands and inspected her surroundings. All was quiet around her, the emptiest place in a haunted ruin; even the wind was kept out by the high walls in every direction, making the sun's heat especially punishing on the overgrown environs. Turning to look back down the pit she'd just emerged from, she voiced one more gripe. "Was this seriously the only way to get here?"

The blonde boy climbing to the top of the ladder shrugged. "Don't blame me; I didn't build this place."

"Could you guys hurry up?" urged a third voice, this one coming from Claus even further down in the castle's bowels. "I think I hear – ack! Quit it, Boney! You're wagging your tail in my face!"

The sound of the dog's tail whapping against his master made Kumatora smile more than it probably should have. "You're the one that wanted to bring him, kiddo," she reminded the boy while kneeling down to offer Lucas a gloved hand.

Boney barked from down in the darkness, his voice echoing throughout the narrow tunnels. "Woof! (I wasn't about to stay at home again.)"

With Kumatora's help, Lucas popped out into daylight and was deposited neatly onto terra firma. He mindlessly wiped his dirty hands off on his shirt, realizing only after the fact that he was sure to catch hell from his mother for it later on. "Mister Pusher said no animals allowed at the festival," he reminded the dog. Not that the rule kept those animals who did show up from enjoying themselves. Salsa and Samba even won the dance contest, much to Pusher's chagrin. "Besides, you would've freaked out when the fireworks started."

Scrambling up behind his master, Boney jumped up off the ladder and shook the cobwebs from his fur. "Woof woof! (I can still smell the food on you, Lucas.)"

"I brought some home for you in a doggy bag, didn't I?" the boy pointed out.

"Kumatora?" Claus asked as he neared the exit. "Could you smack Lucas for me?"

"That's what it's called!" Lucas protested.

Kumatora pinched the bridge of her nose, secretly delighting in the blonde's awful joke. "Just get your butt up here."

"Fine," Claus agreed. "But if there were hotdogs in that bag I'll never forgive you."

"What do you take me for?" Lucas asked as he watched Kumatora help Claus onto his feet. "They were corndogs."

Kumatora suppressed a laugh, but not well enough for Claus to ignore the sudden jostling. "Something you want to say?"

"No, no. I'm fine," Kumatora assured him. "I must've had a bit too much fun last night is all. Maybe I could use a little hair o' the dog."

"Uuugh," Claus groaned. "You're _literally_ killing me."

"First of all, I'm being totally serious," Lucas remarked. "There just happened to be some corndogs left over and I thought Boney might like a treat." He patted the brown mutt on the head for good measure. "And second, you're in no position to complain about bad jokes, mister."

"At least mine aren't the same pun over and over again," Claus noted while wiping his hands on his shorts.

"Hello?" the last of their cohorts called from the ladder. "Anyone up there? A little help?"

Kumatora rubbed her neck and returned to the hole one more time. "Yeah, yeah, I hear ya."

The princess reached her hand down to meet Duster's as it poked up out of the hole. "Thanks, dear," he said appreciatively.

"Oof!" Kumatora groaned when she tried to help Duster up and found him especially heavy. "What're ya packin' there? Rocks?"

"Rocks would be easier to carry," Duster pointed out as he carefully guided himself out of the hole so as not to bang the bass strapped to his back around too much.

"Why'd you lug that thing all the way here, anyway?" Claus asked. "Planning an impromptu performance?"

After adjusting the strap on his shoulder, Duster took a second to smooth his hair back before answering. "I'll show you as soon as we find where this Needle was."

Lucas, it seemed, was already one step ahead, hovering around the grassy middle of the courtyard with Boney circling his feet and sniffing the ground. "It was right over here, somewhere."

"Good," Duster nodded as he went to join the boy. "Just listen for a sound; you can't miss it."

"So is anyone gonna fill me in on what we're doing here?" Claus wondered.

Kumatora shrugged. "Don't ask me. This is Duster's plan."

"You're the one who thought it might have something or other to do with this 'Magicant' business," the thief reminded her.

"Only 'cause you wouldn't let it go."

"Well one of you explain SOMETHING," Claus insisted.

"Over here!" Lucas shouted before either of them could respond. "I think this is it!"

Without so much as a word, Kumatora and Duster jogged over to Lucas, leaving Claus to grumble in defeat. "Great . . ."

Boney was clawing at the ground beneath Lucas's feet with both front paws when Duster approached. He'd heard it before anyone else: a low, slow thrumming, coming from a patch of dirt teeming with grass and weeds right in the middle of a rough stone path. It was the exact spot where the Aeolia's Needle once stood.

Duster clapped a hand down on Lucas's shoulder. "Good work. Do you boys hear that?"

"Yeah," Claus answered as he felt himself drawn in by the mystifying sound. "What _is_ it?"

"I wish I knew," the musician admitted, "but it's what we're here to find."

Hearing it clearly for the first time, Lucas recognized it. Not merely from the last time he'd passed through this castle, but before that. He'd heard it every time he pulled a Needle, and it was the last sound he could remember before he woke up to a changed world. "It's a . . . a heartbeat."

Kumatora shot him a dismissive look. "Tch. Yeah, right."

Lucas kept his eyes downward at that one spot in the dirt. "Trust me," he insisted. "I wasn't sure the last time I was here, but I know this sound. It's the Dragon's heart."

Scratching his chin, Duster pondered the implications. "It must be huge to make a noise like that."

Lucas swallowed. "You have no idea."

"Well then, I'd better get to work." In one smooth motion, Duster slipped the bass off his back and spread the case out on the ground. With a flick of his wrists, the latches popped open and he reached inside to extract his instrument, along with a small notebook and a pencil that he neatly tucked behind his ear. "I'm gonna see if I can pick out what note this 'heartbeat' is playing. In the meantime, you should fill them in on what we're up to, Kumatora."

"Sure, make me explain this nutty scheme of yours."

"It's not like we have a better one," Duster reminded her.

"And that's the nuttiest part of all," she groused while walking back toward the stone steps to take a seat. Lucas and Boney followed close on her heels, while Claus jogged past her and lingered on the stone brick walkway to her side.

"Well?" Lucas asked once Kumatora had settled in.

"Where do I even start?" she wondered. "I guess it began when we were at Fire Mountain. Or maybe it was on Tanetane Island. Either way, Duster noticed these sounds coming from certain spots on the ground. Spots where YOU said the Needles used to be. These sounds were one 'note' let's call it, repeated over and over. But it was a different 'note' at each location. You with me so far?"

"Uh-huh," Lucas and Claus nodded in unison.

"Good, 'cause I hate repeatin' myself," Kumatora continued. "Anyway, he got it in his head that if we could learn all the different 'notes' from all the different Needles, we could do, uhh, something with them. I'm not really sure what." Looking past the boys at Duster, she lowered her voice to a whisper. "I don't think he is, either."

Claus grimaced at the admission. "You're not exactly filling me with confidence here."

"Shut yer trap. It's a work in progress," Kumatora scowled. "Like I was saying, if we get the notes, he thinks we can make a melody out of 'em. You see, sounds – especially music – can do a lot more than just get your feet tapping. I don't know if it's magic or PSI or what, but there's power there. Does that make sense?"

Boney cocked his head to the side and whined. "(Not really.)"

"I get it," Lucas chimed in. "You think that when you play all the notes it'll lead you to the Dragon."

"It could," Kumatora nodded hopefully. "Then again, it might do nothing at all. Or something we can't even imagine. There's only one way to find out."

"And I thought _my_ plans were bad," Claus muttered under his breath.

Ignoring his twin, Lucas pressed on. "If it does work, what then?"

Kumatora held back on answering. From the way she looked at him, Lucas could tell she was sizing him up. "That depends. Did you mean what you said in your letter?"

"Yeah, I did," the blonde boy assured her, his voice low and solemn. "I was scared before, but now I know I can't run away any longer. Like it or not, the Dragon is my responsibility."

Kumatora sighed, seeming relieved at his words. "Trust me; I'm not crazy about all this myself. You're not the only one with a lot to lose if things go south." Once again she looked past the boys and their dog to the thief standing over his bass, plucking its strings and listening to the Earth intermittently, straining to hear its song. "But I guess if you want to get sappy about it, having people you're afraid of losing means you've got someone worth fighting for."

Lucas nodded in agreement. "So?" he asked. "What's the next step?"

"If we find the Dragon – and that is one _seriously_ big 'if' – then we come to the tricky part." Kumatora leaned in closer. As unlikely as it was that anyone was listening in, she still felt the need to keep the next part as quiet as she could. "We can't fight it, that's a fact. But we do know one thing that'll work: we put it back to sleep."

". . . Just like the Magypsies' ancestors did," Lucas realized. "Ionia told me all about that. She said they did it because its power was too great for humans to control. I never really understood what she meant by that until now."

Already spotting one fatal flaw in her plan, Claus cut in. "Okay, this might be a dumb question, but how? Can you make more Needles?"

Kumatora wavered. "Not exactly."

Claus turned to face Lucas and rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah, this'll work."

"It's still better than your plan of punching it in the nose, Claus," Lucas countered.

His brother had him there. "Touché."

Swiveling back to Kumatora again, Lucas asked, "How close are you?"

"Pretty darn close," Kumatora mused. "So far we've got the notes from Fire Mountain, Tanetane Island, Murasaki Forest, Snowcap Mountain, and Chupichupyoi Temple. And now here we are."

Counting along on his fingers, Lucas realized just how far they'd come. "So you've only got one more to go after this?"

"That's right," Kumatora said, looking very pleased with all she and Duster had accomplished. "I don't suppose you'd mind pointing us to it, would you?"

"Sure thing," Lucas agreed without a second thought. "It's in a cave. It'll be a bit of a hike to get there, though."

Kumatora laughed, hardly bothered by the prospect. "Hey, that's no problem for us. Right, Duster?"

The thief looked up from his work, folding the notebook in his hand closed and spitting the pencil out of his mouth before answering. "Not for me. My leg might have other ideas though."

It was then that Claus interjected once more. "Or . . ."

"Or what?" Kumatora wondered.

"Or I can get us there," he offered.

"Yeah?" Kumatora asked, her lips pursed with curiosity. "And how are you gonna do that?"

Puffing out his chest proudly, Claus stood up tall and smirked. "Stand back and I'll show you."

Now it was Kumatora's turn to roll her eyes at Lucas. "Oh _this_ should be good."

For his part, Lucas was paying more mind to his brother by then. "Claus? What are you doing?"

"You just watch and be amazed, li'l bro." With that, Claus dropped down low to the ground, propping himself up on his fingertips with one leg curled against his chest and the other outstretched behind him. His eyes narrowed into slits and his tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth. This. Would. Be. AWESOME. Or so he told himself.

After one final shake to limber up, Claus took off sprinting at full speed across the length of the stone walkway. Boney bounded after him, matching the boy's speed and even closing the gap in his excitement. Lucas and Kumatora could only look on in stunned silence as Claus pumped his legs faster and faster. He fixed his steely gaze straight ahead, certain of his success.

The far wall was getting awfully close now, though.

And then . . . Smack!

Throwing his arms up at the last second and kicking his feet out in front of him kept Claus from smashing face-first into the masonry, but it still hurt. It didn't help that Boney skidded into him from behind, sending him tumbling over backwards onto the poor dog. And if all that wasn't enough, the PSI he'd poured into that move quite literally exploded in his face with a loud pop that echoed off the stone walls and left both him and his dog singed, sooty, and coughing.

Seeing that, Lucas's eyes went wide. "Boney! Claus!"

The pitch black boy extended a thumbs-up. "We're okay," he wheezed.

Boney scrambled to his paws and trotted in Lucas's direction. "(Speak for yourself,)" he whimpered before doing his best to shake the soot off without much success.

Lucas bent down to examine his dog more closely, frowning as he tried to wipe Boney's face off and wound up with black smears on his fingers. "Yuck. Someone's gonna need a bath when we get home." He then turned to look at Claus again and corrected himself. "Maybe two someones."

Kumatora approached at a more leisurely pace, shaking her head as she did. "Wow. I didn't expect much and you did not disappoint."

"Har har." The redhead groaned as he forced himself upright again, aching more from the impact than the detonation that followed. "You'll be laughing out of the other side of your face when it works."

"What, ya mean running into a stone wall and exploding WASN'T the goal there?" the princess chuckled.

At another time, Claus might have a more feisty response, but he was feeling rather humbled at the moment. "Teleportation's hard, okay? I don't see you doing it."

Lucas perked up. "Teleportation? Since when can you do that?"

"Never you mind." The soot-covered boy wiped his mouth on his sleeve and spat on the ground. Despite the setback, he was more determined than ever to prove himself. "Lemme try again; I probably needed a longer run-up."

"Are you sure you don't want to sit down for a minute?" Lucas prayed that his twin would take the hint.

"(I do,)" Boney grumbled, flopping down at the blonde's side.

"Sorry, Boney," Claus apologized. "I promise I'll get it right this time."

"Woof! (I'll watch from over here where it's safe.)"

Still covered head-to-toe in the fallout from his last failure, Claus marched off to find a better spot to run from. Knowing there was no talking his brother out of it, Lucas sat down and began petting Boney.

Duster took a break from plucking his bass long enough to watch Claus storm past him. "Go ahead; make all the noise you want. It's not like I need to listen closely or anything."

Claus had no comeback; he was too busy trying to ensure he'd get it right. Scanning over the courtyard, he spied what looked like the longest straightaway he was likely to get. If that wasn't enough then he'd have to find somewhere more open to try this out. Who'd have guessed that teleporting would be such a hassle?

He crouched down over a patch of wildflowers as close to one of the castle walls as he could get. Digging his heels into the grass, Claus plotted a course to the far wall. He'd have to run past Duster to do it, but it was otherwise completely clear of anything that might get in his way; not even so much as a molehill to trip him up, except, of course, for the nine stories of stonework that made for an inflexible finish line. It was time for round two.

Sucking in a breath, Claus tensed his muscles and pushed off. He rocketed to an even faster start than last time under the scrutiny of four pairs of eyes. He didn't have time to think, only to run as he zoomed past Duster. It was happening; he could feel his PSI working, ringing in his ears like the screech of metal on a grindstone. It was working, but the wall was still rushing toward him.

Lucas shot up from his seat when he saw his twin smack into a solid stone wall and combust for the second time in as many minutes. "That's enough, Claus."

Boney watched the boy jog away and grumbled, already missing the soft scratching behind his ears. "(I didn't say you could stop.)"

Claus crawled up the wall and smiled weakly. "I'm fine. See? It's not even bleeding."

"If you keep this up it'll be like that time you broke your leg all over again," Lucas scolded him. "Or when you chipped your tooth. Or when you sprained your ankle, or got that scar, or got that _other_ scar, or almost drowned trying to prove a point about mermen."

"Yeah, it's less fun to watch if you get hurt," Kumatora added.

"But I'm so close!" Claus nearly had it. He was certain of that. "What am I doing wrong, Kumatora?"

"How should I know?" she asked, folding her arms defensively. "Like you said: you don't see me doing it."

"You're supposed to be the expert on this psychic stuff."

"That doesn't mean I know everything."

"You gotta know _something_ though!" Claus persisted. "C'mon, just give me one measly little hint. Please?"

Lucas clicked his tongue. "You are unbelievable, Claus. Don't tell me actually want to try again."

"I can do this, I know it!" the redhead insisted. "Just once more, I promise!"

As much as it pained Lucas to watch his brother put himself through this, he couldn't deny the urgent, inexplicable need in the other boy's voice. This was about more than showing off. Claus had to do this, and Lucas could do nothing but watch. He turned to face Kumatora again with a conflicted expression. "If you don't then he's just gonna bash his face into the wall again."

Kumatora pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. Bringing the twins along was not at all worth the aggravation. "Okay, look: if it's not doing what it's supposed to then you've gotta be screwing something up. Are ya sure this is enough room?"

"Totally," Claus nodded excitedly. "I felt it working, but it just didn't 'click'."

"You didn't burn through all your PP, did you?" she asked.

"Not even close," Claus scoffed. "I could do this all day."

It was Lucas's turn to toss out a suggestion. "Maybe you need to focus on where you're trying to go."

"Yeah, that's a good point," said Kumatora. "This psychic business is all about where your head's at, after all."

"Yeah, it is," Lucas concurred. "It's like when I heal someone. It's not about willing them to get better; I have to picture them being healthy again for it to work."

"So what do I do?" Claus asked. Despite his years of experience, he hadn't put much thought into how PSI worked. What he could do came so readily that he'd never had to. "Should I close my eyes and imagine myself standing wherever it is that I want to end up?"

"Might as well try it," Kumatora shrugged. "Maybe the running helps trick your brain into believing it or something. That's my guess."

"Just, uh, don't try to go too far, okay? A short jump would be easier on you." Not to mention easier on Lucas in the event that it did work. He'd be a knot of worries if Claus disappeared into thin air.

"Okay, okay, okay." Claus cracked his knuckles and shook off the jitters. If this was all about his state of mind, then he couldn't afford any more doubts. "Third time's the charm, right?"

As he watched his brother crouch down again, Lucas swore to himself to hold Claus to his word: whatever the outcome, this was his last try. Why his older brother couldn't have at least practiced this in a nice, open field first he couldn't even fathom, beyond the redhead's typical lack of forethought. The hot spring was going to be put to the test today.

Claus, meanwhile, had shut his eyes tight to try and focus his ever-shifting attention onto one place. Familiar sights flashed by: his bedroom, the town square, the beach, the forest, the graveyard, Drago Plateau, his grandfather's cabin. None of it felt right. It should be somewhere close by, like Lucas said. Somewhere he could picture perfectly. At last he settled on his choice, carving the image into his mind's eye and letting go of the breath he'd been holding.

He got off to a slower start this time, but picked up speed quickly. Shutting out the world around him, Claus stayed focus only on his destination. He could feel the stone underfoot, even as his shoes dug into grass. He could feel the cool shade overhead, even beneath the pounding summer sun. He was there; his body just hadn't caught up yet.

Lucas, Kumatora, Boney and Duster all watched with hitched breath as Claus ran at the wall but never reached it.

"Whoa!" Lucas gasped.

Kumatora's jaw hung open. "Did that seriously work?"

Before they could investigate they all heard a loud clatter from the balcony overlooking the courtyard, followed moments later by some loud cursing. "Who put this trash can here?!" Claus demanded. He appeared after a few seconds, leaning over the railing with a big, toothy grin and crowed. "Woohoo! Told ya I could do it!"

Kumatora shielded her eyes from the sun as she looked up at him and snorted to hide her surprise. "Cute trick. How's that supposed to help again?"

Claus was in too good of a mood to let her faze him. "Lucas left out one teeny, tiny detail about the last Needle," he shouted down to the group. "That cave he mentioned? It's buried under about a bajillion tons of solid rock."

Lucas quickly objected. "No, there was an—"

"An elevator?" Claus interrupted him. "Not anymore there isn't. Think about it: no Pigmasks means no New Pork City, no elevator, and no other way to get to that last note except for yours truly."

And there it was, Kumatora realized: the pitch she'd been expecting to hear. "If you're tryin' to tag along with us again, you can forget it. I'm no babysitter."

"Since I'm the only one who can get where we're going, it's more like you'd be tagging along with me."

"Claus. Be nice," Lucas reminded his older brother.

With a drawn-out sigh, Claus bowed to his twin's wisdom. "Fine. Here's the deal: I don't know the first thing about music and Lucas is practically tone-deaf. We need you as much as you need us."

The princess laughed to herself. "Ya got a lot of nerve, kid. I think I'm starting to like you."

"Please, Kumatora," Lucas begged. "We woke the Dragon up. Let us help put it back to sleep again."

As much as the thought of bringing the boys into danger after she'd gone to so much effort to save them from it irked her, Kumatora couldn't argue. "You're not gonna throw another hissy fit, are ya?"

Lucas placed a hand over his heart. "I'm over it."

"How about you?" she called up to Claus.

"Wasn't planning to."

"Let 'em come along," Duster weighed in. "We could use the company."

"Have it your way," Kumatora conceded. "But if either of you gets hurt I'm gonna be SUPER pissed."

"Woof! (What about me?)" Boney barked.

Kumatora was about to draw the line there, but then she saw the pleading looks that the twins were giving her. "Fine, you can come too. Is there anyone else joining the party I should know about?"

"Nope," Lucas promised her.

"Good. Duster? How we lookin' over there?"

"I'm gonna need some more time," he let her know. "Some peace and quiet wouldn't hurt either."

Turning back to the boys, Kumatora was struck with an idea. "Tell you what: you three get out of here so the 'maestro' can do his thing. Let's meet up again tomorrow morning. That should give you plenty of time to practice that little stunt of yours so you don't accidentally teleport us all into a boulder."

"Wait, that can HAPPEN?!" Claus gaped.

Kumatora brushed off the question. "Better safe than sorry, right?" It she'd meant to sound reassuring, she'd failed. "If this works, we could be meeting the Dragon by lunch time."

It wasn't until then that it hit Claus just how close they really were to the end. "What, really? I . . . I didn't think it'd be so soon. Doesn't it take time to figure these notes out?"

"Not if they do what we think they'll do," the pink-haired woman said. "But then none of us really know. Just be ready for anything. It could get rough."

Lucas stepped up to her and smiled. "You can count on us, Kumatora."

* * *

[Another long one. If you've got any hopes for the finale, get 'em in before stuff gets too crazy.]


	48. Familiar Faces

Farm fresh eggs, seasoning, and now a handful of cheese all melded together into a beautiful, perfect disk. Lucas looked on anxiously, gnawing on his lower lip while he gingerly worked the spatula under the eggs' edges. He had to be mindful of how quickly they would be transfigured from a gooey mess to a charred brick, with only a brief window in between where dwelt the most heavenly meal he could imagine.

"It's all in the wrist, honey," Hinawa reminded her son as she observed over his shoulder. "One smooth motion."

"Gotcha," Lucas nodded. The time had come. He'd have to move fast if he didn't want to wind up with burnt egg on his face, but this was always the part he found trickiest. He held his breath, slipped the spatula under half of the omelet, and winced as he folded it over.

"Nice job," Hinawa remarked, pretending not to notice the boy's relieved sigh. "I couldn't have made it any prettier myself."

Lucas's face lit up at the compliment. "Thanks!" he said while moving the omelet from pan to plate.

"I'll finish up here," Hinawa said appreciatively. "Could you go get your brother?"

"Sure thing!" he agreed. Doffing his apron, he bounced toward the front door with more than the usual pep in his step.

Lucas found his brother outside, playing in the front yard with Boney under the day's last light. They'd both cleaned up since that morning's adventure, but seemed bound and determined to make an even bigger mess than before, wallowing in the grass and dirt as they were. It was a shame he couldn't join them.

"Claus! Dinner!" Lucas called out from the open doorway.

The redhead perked up and swiveled around to answer. "Coming!"

"You too, Boney," the blonde added.

The dog scrambled to his feet, invigorated from a good belly rub, and barked. "Woof! (You don't have to tell me twice.)"

After washing up the boys joined their father at the table. Boney (who hadn't bothered washing his paws) was already chowing down on a bowl of dog food nearby as Hinawa set the last two plates down.

Inhaling deeply, Flint smiled at his wife. "Somethin' smells mighty fine."

"You should be thanking Lucas," Hinawa corrected him as she sat down beside him. "He's the one who did all the work."

"No foolin'?" Flint asked.

"I just did what she told me," Lucas answered modestly. "I don't think I'll ever be able to make omelets as good as mom."

"Don't sell yourself short." His mother scooped a bite onto her fork, ate it, and winked at him. "I'd say you've got me beat."

"Mom's right," Claus agreed during a rare pause in the midst of scarfing down his own omelet. "These are great."

His family's praise brought out the pink in Lucas's cheeks. "Thanks," he smiled. "I tried."

Turning then to her older son, Hinawa suggested, "You should learn too, Claus."

He swallowed a mouthful of eggs and shook his head. "No way. I'm hopeless."

"Nonsense. You'll pick it up in no time," she assured him, knowing all too well that the boy would learn if he'd only try.

Unconvinced, Claus shrugged off the offer. "I'd rather not give everyone food poisoning."

"I promise you'll love it." Clearly, Hinawa wasn't about to take "no" for an answer. "You know sweetie, some people find it very attractive when a man can cook for himself."

"Mm," Claus grunted.

"It's true," she persisted. "You know, back when your father and I were dating, I baked him so much bread that I think he nearly burst. Maybe you could make a treat for a certain special someone, hmm?"

The boy hunkered down in the hopes of hiding the ruddy sheen on his face. "Mooom, cut it out."

"Only a suggestion," she chuckled to herself before taking another bite of her meal. Sadly for Claus, his reprieve lasted only until she swallowed. "It's just that you and Fuel looked so cute together yesterday."

Claus's grip on his fork tightened involuntarily. "We were not 'cute'," he insisted.

"Sorry, sweetheart," Hinawa apologized. "I meant 'handsome'."

Thankfully, Flint was there to cut in on his son's behalf. "Let the poor boy eat, darlin'."

"Yes, of course, dearest," she conceded with another giggle. "You understand what I'm saying though, don't you?"

"Yes, darlin'; I haven't forgotten that bread of yours. Neither did my waistline." Flint patted his belly; while hardly overweight, he no longer cut the svelte figure of his youth. "Better be careful, Claus; you don't want that boyfriend of yours gettin' fat, do ya?"

"Not you too, dad," Claus frowned pitifully.

Flint chuckled and carved out another bite of eggs. "Just teasin', son."

It would have been a lie if Lucas claimed he didn't enjoy watching his brother squirm just a bit. Seeing his father get in on the game especially got him smiling. Flint was so vibrant and lively, a stark contrast to the three years they'd spent without Claus and Hinawa. Grateful as he was for his mother and brother to be alive again, Lucas was certain that theirs were not the only lives saved that day.

"Why don't we make lunch together tomorrow?" Hinawa suggested.

Claus thought about it but ultimately confessed, "Tomorrow's sorta busy, actually." His eyes darted over to meet his twin. "For both of us."

"We're helping Duster and Kumatora," Lucas explained.

Flint cocked his eyebrow at that. "Again? You boys sure are eager to lend them a hand with whatever they're up to."

"Well they did save our lives, y'know," Claus bluffed. "It feels like we owe 'em."

"As long as you're staying safe. We worry," Hinawa reminded her sons.

"It's not anything dangerous," the redhead scoffed. "We're just exploring a cave."

"And besides, Boney's coming with us. He'll watch our backs," Lucas added.

While Hinawa was not nearly as gullible as the boys seemed to think, her keener senses told her to let this one go. The five of them couldn't possibly get into too much trouble. "All the same, I want you boys back here in time for lunch. Is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," the twins agreed.

The rest of that evening passed quietly, the family enjoying one another's company until at last they retired. Always a night owl though, sleep was the last thing on Lucas's mind. He'd made a big enough show of getting ready for bed, certainly – changing into his pajamas, brushing his teeth, all the typical rituals – but as soon as he was sure no other creature was stirring, he crawled out from under the covers and changed back into his day clothes.

Sitting at the foot of his bed with only the dim moonlight peeking in through the window to guide him, Lucas pawed through the worn-out backpack in his lap. He'd spent a good part of the afternoon filling it with anything that might help the next morning. Pickings were slim, though; a stick, a yo-yo, a squirt gun filled with saltwater and an old book didn't exactly constitute an arsenal. He did still have the Franklin Badge, but he wasn't sure he wanted to bring it. Too many bad memories.

Lucas threw the backpack over his shoulder and bent down to put on his shoes. He'd learned long ago never to go into a fight unprepared, and he'd be damned if he forgot that lesson now. If his own home didn't have what he needed, he'd have to scrounge for supplies elsewhere.

His bedroom window always stuck midway up, making it that much more difficult for Lucas to open silently. He had to shimmy the pane just right, but it finally slid the rest of the way and made room for him to escape unnoticed. Fortunately there weren't any bushes to contend with on this side of the house, so it took no more than a simple hop for the boy to get out into the brisk night air.

"Going someplace?"

Lucas froze, all the hairs on his neck standing at attention. It didn't take long to spy his brother, also back in his day clothes and sitting against the side of the house. "Claus! What are you doing here?" he whispered.

"I knew you'd try and sneak out," the older boy snorted. "Psychic, remember?"

Lucas wasn't fooled. "More like a lucky guess. Besides, you were probably planning the same thing."

Claus picked himself up off the ground with a grunt and brushed the dirt off his backside. "You got me there," he shrugged. "Just promise me this isn't gonna turn into another night like that one at the castle."

"I swear it's not," Lucas shook his head. "I need to get some supplies from town. I'll be back in ten minutes _tops_."

"I'll hold you to that."

"How about you?" Lucas wondered. "Where're you going?"

Claus couldn't help but laugh at the question. Some things never changed for them. "Still as nosey as ever."

"Sorry."

It was a clear night and the moon and stars bathed the land and sea alike in their pale white light, but Claus still feared to meet his brother eye-to-eye for what he would ask next. "Tell me the truth, Lucas," he muttered. "If we put the Dragon back to sleep . . . am I gonna die?"

The blonde wanted nothing more than to reassure his brother, or maybe just to reassure himself. If he was being truthful, though, then there was only one response. "I don't know."

Claus turned to face his brother again. "If you thought it might be your last night alive, how would you spend it?"

Lucas understood and gave a nod. "With the people I love."

Leaning in suddenly, the redhead wrapped his arms around his little brother, backpack and all. Lucas returned the gesture of course, savoring the rare moment of closeness. Claus's warmth, his smell, his heart: they were all as they should be, as Lucas remembered from the distant days of their shared youth. They might never be the same again after tomorrow.

Pulling away after the all-too-brief embrace, Lucas patted his twin on the shoulder. "Get back soon, okay?"

"Uh-huh," Claus sniffled. "You too."

With that, the redhead took off jogging down the hill. Lucas watched that jog turn into a run, and then a sprint. The rapid patter of his footfalls on the dirt ended mid-stride as Claus slipped through the cracks of an otherwise impregnable but unseen boundary at the walls of reality. The younger twin was stuck heading into town solely on the power of his own two feet. It was a nice night for a walk, though, and Claus wouldn't have appreciated that anyway.

As Lucas expected, the whole village was dark and empty. While he was no stranger to venturing out past his bedtime he still wanted to get back as soon as possible, both to get the sleep his body was craving and to avoid a possible lecture. He strode past the bazaar, past the inn, to the far side of town. He soon stood in front of the clinic. If there was one place to find something he didn't know he needed, it would be here.

He approached the door nervously and lightly rapped it with his knuckles. There was no light inside, no sign of anyone still being up and about, and no one coming to answer his meager entreaty. It was probably better that way. Fewer questions to answer. It would hardly be the first time he'd entered someone's house unbidden and made off with a baked good or some bug spray; never anything that would be missed. That hardly made him a thief. Besides, it was all in the interest of saving the world.

Steeled with self-justification, he tried the doorknob. It turned easily and the door creaked open with hardly any effort at all. If that wasn't as good as an invitation then nothing was, Lucas told himself before he stepped into the darkened entryway and closed the door behind him. Now all he had to do was find something useful to fill his backpack with. Easy-peasy.

Unbeknownst to Lucas, however, he was not the only one creeping through the clinic that night.

Deep in the Sunshine Forest, Claus skidded to a stop, although not quite fast enough to keep from bumping into the old trash can out in front of Fuel's house. It made a fantastic racket. Claus scowled as he tried to muffle the sound; that was the second time now that his new power dropped him off right in the path of a garbage can. If the same thing happened even one more time, he'd be ready to swear it off altogether.

Fortunately, the noise didn't seem to have disturbed anyone inside the cabin. Claus had to assume it wasn't uncommon for any number of woodland critters to knock the can around at all hours. Goodness knows he'd long since learned to filter out the racket made by the gulls near his seaside home.

Of course that still left him with one problem: how to get Fuel to come outside. It would be rude to knock so late at night, and the absolute last thing he wanted was for Lighter to know he was there. He could try throwing rocks at the window, but that would run the risk of waking up the wrong person. Besides, Fuel was a famously heavy sleeper. What Claus needed was something more . . . unorthodox.

"Well, it's worth a try," he murmured to himself. The boy shut his eyes, placed his index finger on his temple, and concentrated as hard as he could on his best friend. "(Fuel,)" he thought. "(Wake up, Fuel. Wake up and go outside.)"

Admittedly, he'd never even tried to do this before. He didn't even know if it was something that could be done. Of course only a day ago he would have thought teleportation to be impossible, so he was willing to give it a shot. Besides, he _was_ psychic; telepathy couldn't be THAT hard. Not that it had shown any signs of working so far.

"(Fuuuelllll . . .)" Claus persisted. "(Fuel! I'm not gonna stop 'til you wake up, butthead.)" Maybe he was wasting his time. It was a pretty silly notion in the first place. "(Testing, testing. One. Two. Is this even on?)" At this rate he may as well settle in and wait for morning. "(Fuelfuelfuelfuelfuelfu—)"

Before Claus could think even one more syllable, the front door swung wide open.

A heavy hand fell onto Lucas's shoulder, making the boy shriek in surprise. "Ah!" He spun on his heel, stumbling in a moment of panic that lasted until he managed to make out a familiar face in the darkness.

"It's a little late for a checkup, don't you think?" Dr. Andonuts asked calmly.

"Sorrysorrysorry!" Lucas squealed in time with the pounding of his heart. "I knocked but no one answered and didn't want to wake you and the door was open so I let myself in and – and PLEASE don't tell my folks!"

"Settle down, Lucas," the doctor chuckled. "It's okay. I was actually expecting you."

Hearing that, the boy's alarm gave way to confusion. "You . . . you were?"

"Well, maybe not tonight," Dr. Andonuts admitted, "but I knew you'd show up here sooner or later."

"How come?"

"It was only a matter of time." Even in the dark, Lucas could make out the man's mysterious smile. He immediately distrusted it; cagey grownups often had that effect on him. "Don't worry, lad. I've got everything you need all ready to go. Right this way." Dr. Andonuts breezed past Lucas toward the back of the room.

Wary but curious, Lucas followed along. "I don't understand."

If Dr. Andonuts heard the boy he didn't show it. He simply marched over to the desk tucked away in the back corner, piled high with papers and instruments and boxes and all sorts of gizmos, doodads and gewgaws that Lucas couldn't put a name to, and lit a single candle. "Now let's see. Where oh where did I leave it?" the doctor asked himself as he brushed some papers aside and moved a set of keys out of the way. The glare from the candle reflecting off his spectacles made the man's expression even trickier to read. "Was it here?" He moved an empty box, and in so doing revealed an object the boy hadn't noticed before: a winged egg pulsing with a soft, white light. "Nope, not there."

Claus was faring no better in his own venture. Standing in the doorway cinching his shabby bathrobe with one hand and lugging around a plank of lumber with the other was a disheveled and very perplexed Lighter. "Claus?" he croaked. "Were you the one makin' all that racket? What the hell are you doin' here?"

"S-sorry, Mister Lighter, um, sir," the boy squeaked, recoiling like a turtle into its shell. "I was just passing by and—"

In barely a sentence, Lighter could size up that this was no emergency. He sunk down, more annoyed than relieved. "Go home, Claus. It's late."

"This'll only take a minute," the redhead insisted. He'd already made it this far, he figured, so he may as well do what he came here for. "Is Fuel home?"

It was the audacity of the question which set Lighter off. "It's the middle of the night! Where else would he be?"

"Right," Claus cringed. He'd certainly walked into that one. "See, I kinda need to . . . ask him something."

"He's in bed, like you should be," Lighter responded tersely. "Whatever it is, it can wait 'til tomorrow."

Seeing the man moving to shut the door, Claus edged forward. "But it's important!" he asserted. "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't."

Lighter glowered as he made a mental note to retract anything he'd ever said to Flint about Claus being a good kid. "I don't—"

Claus cut him off. "I'm really, REALLY sorry but I swear it can't wait. Just one question and I'll get lost. Please?"

Maybe the earnestness was getting to him. Maybe it was the offer to scram. Either way, Lighter felt his resolve weakening. "Damn kids'll be the death of me," he sighed. "One question, then you vamoose. Wait here."

Claus planted his feet where he stood. Taking that for an accord, Lighter turned around and headed back inside the house, letting the door swing closed behind him. As soon as he was alone again, Claus started to fidget; despite a few bumps along the way, his plan had gone relatively smoothly. Now, though, he had to overcome a belly full of butterflies.

While the wait may have felt like an eternity, it was actually only a minute or two before the door opened again. "Claus . . . ?" Fuel stepped out, his hair a mess and clothed only in his t-shirt and boxers.

"Fuel! Hey!" Claus greeted him with an exaggerated smile. "What's up?"

"Sleep," Fuel blinked. "Sleep's up."

"Yeah," Claus laughed nervously. "You probably wanna know why I'm here, huh?"

Fuel did not answer, at least not with words. The look on his face told Claus all he needed to know, though.

"Sorry," the redhead apologized. "It's just that I had to talk to you before I left."

That seemed to catch Fuel's interest. "Huh? You're going somewhere?"

"Only for a day. I hope." Potentially a lot longer, Claus knew. "I can't explain right now, but it's something I really, really have to do."

What little patience Fuel had was already exhausted. "Okay, look. It's late, I'm tired, and I'm standing in the yard in my underpants. Get to the point."

"Can we hang out the day after tomorrow?"

Fuel cocked his head to the side as if he wasn't sure he'd heard right. "What?"

"Once this stuff I gotta do is done, the only thing I want in the whole wide world is to spend some time with you. I'm up for anything. I'll even help you chop wood. Or bake cookies." Hopefully that came off as sweet and not crazy. Then again, given the circumstances, anything Claus could say would sound pretty darn nuts.

Fuel's nostrils flared, making him look a lot like his father had mere minutes before. "Is this seriously why you woke me up?"

It was definitely the crazy one. "I know it's weird, but please."

"Sheesh." Fuel shook his head, perhaps wondering whether this was all a dream brought on by too many snacks before bed. "One little kiss and you show up at my house in the middle of the night. You sure know how to make a guy think twice."

"I'm not a creep, I promise," Claus insisted despite all evidence to the contrary. "This is just a weird time for me."

"Can I go back to bed if I say yes?" Fuel groaned.

"Even if you say no."

After a long pause, the brunette finally agreed. "Fine. I'll see you the day after tomorrow then, ya weirdo."

Those words came as no small relief to Claus, who had unknowingly been holding his breath. "I'll be there," he replied solemnly. "I promise."

"Whatever, dude. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Fuel."

Back in the clinic, Lucas turned to Dr. Andonuts with an alarmed expression. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold on," he urged the man. "Is that the Hummingbird Egg?"

Still sorting through the piles of refuse covering his workspace, the doctor gave an indifferent shrug. "Oh, that old thing? Don't worry about that."

"You found it?" Lucas persisted.

"Hmm? No, no. Not me. It was that Ocho fellow," Dr. Andonuts answered with ongoing disinterest. "Isn't it amazing what sort of things you find washed up on the beach? Anyway, I know how much of a hurry you kids get in when you're off to save the world, so let's not dilly dally."

Lucas's mind raced to keep up with the doctor's answers, which thus far had only raised further questions. "How do you know I'm—?"

"Here we are!" Dr. Andonuts proclaimed as he moved a folder aside to reveal a white box, neatly wrapped in a red bow. He hummed to himself as he picked it up, knocking a stack of papers onto the floor in the process. Disregarding the mess he'd made, the doctor turned to shove the present toward the boy. "I think that should be everything you need. Rockets, snacks, one of those tart things, a first aid kit, and a few medical bits and bobs I had lying around."

Lucas grabbed the box instinctively. It was heavy, which of course made sense if it contained all the things Dr. Andonuts had listed. He had what he'd come for – literally all wrapped up with a bow on top – but he was far from satisfied. "Slow down for a minute," he implored the doctor. "What is all this? Why are you giving me this stuff?"

With his hands folded behind his back, Dr. Andonuts simply smiled. "We can't have you going into danger with nothing but a stick to swing, now can we?"

Lucas peered at the old man, scrutinizing his unreadable expression. "Is this because of the Hummingbird Egg?"

A twitch, small but unmistakable, marred the doctor's face for no longer than the blink of an eye. "Lucas, there's someone I want you to meet," he said. The sudden change of subject was jarring for the boy, but told him he was on the right track. It was then that Dr. Andonuts raised his left hand, which was now covered by a sock puppet with a fuzzy pink body, heart-shaped antennae, and great big googly eyes. "This is Mister Feelings. He's a very good listener. Perhaps you'd like to say hello?"

Even if Mister Feelings didn't bear vague similarities to some of the chimeras and robots Lucas had been attacked by in the past, it still would have been unsettling with its antennae bobbing up and down on springs and its unblinking stare. "I don't want to talk to a puppet, thanks."

"That's too bad," Dr. Andonuts lamented and turned to face the toy, "because he wants to talk to you. Isn't that right, Mister Feelings?"

Speaking out of the corner of his mouth, Dr. Andonuts put on a scratchy, high-pitched voice and flapped the puppet's mouth along with his words. " _That's right, Doc! I love making new friends. Can we be friends, Lucas?_ "

Not wanting to offend the man (or the puppet), Lucas resolved to let them both down easy. "Maybe later, Mister Feelings," he said uncomfortably.

" _I sure do hope so,_ " Mister Feelings squawked. " _I'd be aaawwwful sad if you left and never came back._ "

Hardly reassured, Lucas decided to sidestep any more discussions with Mister Feelings. "No offense, Dr. Andonuts, but that puppet's . . . kinda creepy."

"Is it?" the man asked, studying the toy with a more critical eye. "Hmm. I suppose I always was better with puppets than I was with kids. I'm sure your brother would know all about that, wouldn't he?"

Lucas went to refute that claim, but caught himself when he realized he couldn't. He could see even through the doctor's impenetrable visage that the man wasn't speaking from Claus's accusations anymore, but from his own recollection. "You're being too hard on yourself."

"You think so?" Dr. Andonuts asked. "Let's get a second opinion. What do you have to say, Mister Feelings?"

Naturally, the puppet was more than happy to share its insight. " _I think you love figuring out what makes things tick and fixing what's broken. Too bad you can't do the same for people, huh?_ "

"C'mon, you're the town doctor," Lucas was quick to point out. "Fixing people is what you do."

Dr. Andonuts sighed. "You and I both know that's not true, Lucas. I may have my talents, but medicine was never one of them. Neither was fatherhood." For the briefest of moments, Lucas saw the doctor's façade crack. There was no shame in his voice, no trace of anger or sorrow. Only cold recognition.

Lucas was shocked. "You're a dad?"

As suddenly as it had fallen apart, Dr. Andonuts knitted his placid smile back together. "No, lad. No I am not."

Lucas hung back and rubbed his neck self-consciously. He felt like he should say something, but didn't want to run into the wall that the doctor had built up around himself. "Y'know, my dad wasn't always the best."

Dr. Andonuts didn't inquire further, but neither did he object. In fact he didn't respond at all. There was no doubt he'd heard, though.

"He wasn't around much after mom died," Lucas continued. "She and Claus were gone, and sometimes it felt like he was too. I didn't starve of anything, but . . . well, there were some days I went to bed without dinner because he didn't get home until real late." Lucas learned a lot about self-reliance in those years, but he'd learned even more about making excuses. Finding Claus was important, after all. That's why Flint couldn't play with his son. Or make sure he was eating. Or talk to him. Or get a job. Or take in Alec. Or clean the house. Or fix the damage from the lightning. Or anything that a dad "ought" to do. And through it all, Lucas cut him slack. What other choice did he have? "Anyway, the point is that just because somebody's a dad doesn't mean they're automatically good at it. Dads are just people, and people aren't perfect. Bad choices don't make you a bad guy, though."

"Interesting," Dr. Andonuts nodded. "So then, what _does_ make someone a bad guy?"

It was a fair question. Lucas had met his share of people he'd call bad guys. Fassad, for one. And then there was Porky. The thing was, no matter how awful they were he could still sense that there was some part of them that he could understand. Deep down, they were still people. People making one bad decision after another, until they were in too deep to ever imagine digging themselves back out. Then again, maybe that was just his imagination playing tricks on him. Maybe they really were rotten to the core. Maybe he never did – never COULD – understand what drove them to act that way. Maybe it wasn't fear, or pain, or anger, or any other human feeling that steered their course. But those human feelings still stirred within Dr. Andonuts. "Bad guys don't try to fix their mistakes," Lucas replied softly. "Anyone can mess up, but good guys want to do better. You did some pretty bad stuff for Porky, but then you stopped. You helped us defeat him. That's not something a bad guy would do." Lucas believed that with all his heart. Not just for Dr. Andonuts's sake, but for his father and brother as well. They could all be better than their past if given the chance.

The doctor smiled gently, seeming pleased with the boy's answer. "How odd," he remarked wistfully. "You remind me of someone, but I can't for the life of me place who it was."

Unsure what to say, Lucas returned only a slight nod. He'd exhausted all the curiosity he could muster for one night.

"Hurry along now, lad," Dr. Andonuts suggested in his usual chipper tone. "You've got a big day ahead and we can't have you falling in asleep in the middle of it all."

"Okay, Doc," Lucas agreed, inspecting the present in his arms one more time. "Thanks."

"Oh, and Lucas?"

"Yeah?"

"Aren't you—?" The man reached into his pocket, only to come up empty-handed. He patted his other pockets down to find them similarly vacant. "Well this is embarrassing," he announced sheepishly. "I seem to be fresh out of lollipops."

Lucas giggled. "That's okay, Doc. I'll survive."

"Tell you what, lad," the doctor offered. "If you come back after this 'saving the world' business, I'll be sure to have one waiting for you. How's that sound?"

"Sounds good," Lucas agreed before turning to leave.


	49. The Pig King's Crown

The world was quiet on that ashen morning, its stillness disturbed only by the tireless breaking of waves on the rocky shoreline and the crunch of two sets of shoes on a dirt path. The princess and the thief had hardly said two sentences to one another since waking up. There was no need. All the words they might have spoken were summed up in their hands, each clasping the other. The tight grip of a thumb spoke of apprehension; the caress of an index finger offered comfort. Their palms, pressed together, made a promise: no matter what happened, they'd face side-by-side.

They followed the curving trail up the hill and into sight of a small, red-roofed doghouse. Its occupant sprang up at once, running over to the man and barking excitedly until a well-placed hand met his head and scratched behind his ears. With their arrival already announced there was no need to knock; the door to the main house swung open and an eager redheaded boy sprung out to greet them with a wave and a smile. His twin followed, dragging his feet behind him and yawning as the light of dawn singed his eyes.

Trailing in the boys' wake were their parents. Greetings, handshakes and hugs flowed to mask the pangs of worry that discretely ran through their veins. Oaths of protection were sworn. Vows of obedience were secured. Remarks about the bass slung over the musician's back were deflected.

Before they could go, their mother wrapped an arm around each of her sons' shoulders and hugged them to her. They were taller now than ever before, truly young men even to a mother's eyes, and that thought made her heart ache.

"Be safe," she whispered in their ears.

"We will," they answered together.

"Love you both."

"Love you too."

A cockerel crowed somewhere in the distance. The twins' parents disappeared back inside, leaving the boys, the princess, the thief, and the faithful hound to their task. The redhead took point, intrepidly leading the way to a place only he could bring them. The blonde nipped at his heels, unwilling to let his big brother get more than arm's reach away.

Returning to the same dirt road they'd just walked up, the princess and the thief each released the other's hand. The boys and their dog were too occupied to notice, the older one especially. He was rambling about the next step, what to do and what not as if he was suddenly an expert at something he'd only managed a handful of times. Run straight, stay close, and leave the rest up to him. That would be enough.

And so they lined up, one after another after another. They were counting on the boy in front to know what he was doing; to take them where they needed to be; to not get them killed. It was a heady undertaking when he thought about it, but one that he could prove himself with.

The world faded away to the redheaded boy's mind, replaced by a cave deep, deep underground. It was a place he knew only briefly, the last piece of a past he wished to put behind him. But now it stood in front, the cave of his future. There was no escaping it, only running toward it. The ocean's dull roar was drowned out by the shrill ring of PSI in their ears, and then they were gone.

Claus stumbled as soon as his foot landed on slick rock instead of gritty dirt. His eyes shot open in a moment of panic, seeing the platform's edge just in time to set his feet right and skid to a stop before he could tumble into the glowing pit below. Lucas, unfortunately, was less attentive.

"Oof!"

Plowing into his brother from behind, Lucas came to a bone-jarring halt at the cost of setting his brother teetering on the edge, his arms waving and alarm in his eyes. Kumatora followed suit a heartbeat later, running straight into Lucas. And then there was Duster; while he may have been as skinny as a rail, he was still by far the heaviest of the group, a fact that was in no way helped by the hulking instrument slung over his back. That last push proved to be more than enough to send Claus catapulting off the ledge. Lucas reached out on instinct, grabbing hold of his twin but at the cost of his own footing. Kumatora and Duster reached out as well, the chain reaction threatening to pull the whole group down all at once until something caught hold of Duster and refused to give up any more ground.

"Lucas!" Claus cried out as he dangled helplessly over a possibly bottomless pit with only his brother's unsteady grip between him and certain death. "Help!"

"I've got you," Lucas answered, his voice shaky under the strain.

Thankfully, Boney could say the same; at least he would if his mouth wasn't clamped shut on Duster's trousers. Carefully walking backwards one paw at a time to keep his grip, the dog dragged the party back inch by inch until Lucas's sneakers found their way onto solid ground. It got easier from there, all four of them working together to bring Claus back over the brink. Safe and sound, the boys dropped to their knees to thank their lucky stars (and more importantly, their friends) from the bottoms of their hearts.

"Woof! (Are you okay?)" Boney asked as he snuffled Claus's face.

"We're okay," he wheezed, patting the dog in return. "Right? We _are_ okay, aren't we?"

Lucas sat up and nodded. "Yeah. We're good."

"Nice steering, kid," Kumatora joked. Her arms felt like rubber after that once-in-a-lifetime catch. "Any landing you walk away from, eh?"

"We made it, didn't we?" Claus pointed out.

Looking around the cavern for the first time, Boney, Duster and Kumatora weren't sure if they had. They had no memory of this place. Lucas and Claus knew it all too well. There was a smell – nothing foul or even wholly unpleasant, but heavy enough to gag on from a deep breath. It was the familiar musk of some living thing, reminiscent of a dog or cow or maybe a sheep. A low buzz rang through the humid air, punctuated by electrical crackles that accompanied the spouts of lightning which arced from the depths up to the roof. The only light was a pulsating purple glow that illuminated the ceiling and left the floor in almost total darkness, save for intermittent flashes of blue and red.

"This place gives me the heebie-jeebies," Duster muttered as he peered over the jagged edge into the abyss. "Where to now?"

Scanning their surroundings, Lucas saw only scattered islands in front of them, too far apart to jump safely. At their backs was a rocky rise that he couldn't see over, but the smooth wall – looking almost as if it'd been cut by tools instead of time – appeared climbable. "There," he pointed, unsure whether he was right but spotting no other way to proceed.

Kumatora was the fastest on her feet, strutting over to the wall eagerly. She ran a finger over its unnaturally angled surface and sighed. Finding a foothold would be tricky, especially in the dark. "Gimme a boost."

Duster knelt down next to her without questioning, meshing his fingers together into a step. Watching the pair work was like seeing old pros running through well-practiced motions. As soon as Kumatora's boot landed in Duster's grip he was lifting her up with nary a grunt or gripe. Her hands found the ledge easily enough and she pulled herself up the rest of the way. As soon as she was on her feet again she bent down to offer a helping hand. "Who's next?"

"I'll go," Claus offered.

It was easy enough. Duster boosted him up until Kumatora's hand could meet his and she took him the rest of the way, although Claus did scrabble against the stone a bit during the handoff. The worn-out soles of his shoes no longer had the same traction they used to, as the near-miss upon their arrival had already proved.

Lucas patted his lap. "C'mon, Boney. Let's get you up there."

The climb was tricky enough with hands and long legs. Paws weren't really built with this in mind. "(Maybe I'll just wait here,)" he grumbled.

"Don't be such a fraidy cat," Lucas taunted him. "It'll be fine."

"Yeah, we need you," Claus added.

Boney resigned himself to his fate. "Woof. (Okay, fine. You talked me into it.)"

At his master's insistence, Boney jumped into Lucas's waiting arms. The boy nearly buckled, since the dog was not that much smaller than he himself was. Now came the tricky part as Lucas tried to heft the dog up the sheer wall.

During that kerfuffle, Claus called down from above. "Hey, Lucas?"

"What?" Lucas grunted. He was in the middle of trying to get his shoulder beneath Boney's butt.

"What's this thing up here?"

"What – oof! – what thing?" With Duster's help, Lucas would be able to hoist his dog up high enough for Kumatora to reach him. The last thing any of them needed was a distraction.

"It's like a . . ." Claus strained to describe what he was seeing and the darkness wasn't helping any. "A big . . . metal . . . ball?"

Lucas slipped right out of Duster's hands. Thankfully Kumatora managed to stretch down just far enough to catch Boney by the collar and pull him the rest of the way up over the sound of his worried whines. Duster likewise managed to catch Lucas before the boy could crack his skull on the ground.

"Ignore it!" Lucas shouted in response. He wasn't even back on his own two feet yet. "Just help us up there."

"Okay," Claus agreed reluctantly. "See, Boney? No problem at all."

The dog shook his shaggy coat and sauntered away from the ledge. "Woof! (That's enough rock climbing for one day.)"

"You all right, Lucas?" Duster asked with a look of concern on his shrouded face.

"Yeah, fine," he nodded anxiously. "Boost me."

Duster obliged, although he could feel the tension running through the boy's whole body. Lucas was so impatient to get up above that he even jumped to reach Kumatora. Claus was there too, doing his best to help out. Maybe it was just his rush or maybe he'd had a few too many omelets over the last year, but getting up the rock face was more of a strain on Lucas than he'd been expecting. Nevertheless, as soon as he made it up top he was scrambling to his feet again.

"Boney!" he clapped his hands together. "Get away from that!"

"(Gimme a break,)" Boney chuffed. "(I don't see anywhere _else_ around here to go to the bathroom.)"

Lucas shot his dog a stern expression that was totally lost in the darkness. Boney obeyed all the same, though, trotting away from the sphere with his business left undone.

Claus and Kumatora, meanwhile, were too busy trying to pull Duster up to notice anything else. They each had hold of one of his hands, but it was still slow going.

"Urgh!" Kumatora grunted. "Get UP here, ya oaf!"

"Coming, dear," Duster answered calmly while doing what little he could. Try as he might, his shoes seemed to slide right off the slick rock face.

"Just . . . a bit . . ." Claus's efforts came in bursts with his breaths, one hearty tug at a time. ". . . More!"

Unlike the others, it wasn't enough for Duster to just get his hands over the edge. If he'd tried to lift himself up the rest of the way the weight of his bass would have dragged him down for certain. He did make it though, after no small effort, and was ready to take a short breather. Lucas didn't seem to be in a mood to wait though.

"This way!" he waved them on toward the open maw of a cavern, silently praying they would pay no mind to the elephant in the room.

"Whoa," Duster gasped once he laid eyes on the object of Claus's inquiry. "What the heck is—?"

"The Needle was up this way," Lucas cut him off.

"Slow down," Kumatora urged him. "It's not going anywhere."

"Yeah, but that's the whole reason we're here, y'know?" Lucas asked, his nervous laughter not fooling anyone. "So why wait? We got places to go, Dragons to slay, all that, um . . . W-we should get, uh, get going . . ."

Seeing his brother walk closer to the capsule with an inquisitive look on his face, Lucas knew it was too late.

"Lucas?"

"Y-yeah?"

Claus stopped in his tracks. "What IS this thing?"

"It's nothing. Just . . . just PLEASE ignore it."

Claus did not. He was fixated on the sphere in front of him. Its smooth, curved surface – reminiscent of a pork bean – looked completely alien in this cave. An electrical spark flashed a bright light on the sphere, revealing the familiar Pigmask insignia on its front.

The Pigmasks were all gone. No New Pork City. No Thunder Tower. No modern conveniences. No chimeras. So what was this doing here? The Dragon couldn't have simply overlooked it, given where it was. No, this was something which even the Dragon, wielding the power of the very Earth itself, still could not erase. Something untouchable. Immortal. Absolutely safe.

"Lucas," Claus snarled, his hands shaking uncontrollably. "Is it him?"

Feeling his willpower dissolve away at the question, Lucas gave a defeated sigh. "Guys, this . . . this is the 'Absolutely Safe Capsule'. Dr. Andonuts and the Mr. Saturns made it." Only Duster, Kumatora and Boney were looking his way. "And Porky's inside."

Claus spun at the sound of that name, pacing away from everyone else with too much on his mind to ever put into words.

"So this is the famous 'Porky', huh?" Kumatora asked.

"Woof woof! (How come he's in there? What's it do?)"

"Exactly what it says," Lucas went on. "It keeps whatever's inside safe from what's outside. And whatever's outside safe from what's inside. Absolutely."

Duster stepped forward, rapping his knuckles against the capsule, finding its construction to be extremely (and unsurprisingly) solid. "How about that?" he whistled.

Kumatora tapped her chin. "So that's what you meant when you said he was someplace where he can't hurt anyone."

"Uh-huh," Lucas acknowledged. "If Dr. Andonuts was telling the truth, he'll be in there for forever and a day."

"Woof! (I wonder what that is in dog years,)" Boney mused from Lucas's side.

Curiosity got the better of Duster, tempting him to lean closer. He wiped the accumulated year's worth of dirt and grime off the porthole and looked inside, straining to see through the cavern's erratic lighting.

"So?" Kumatora asked after a few seconds. "Is he in there?"

Duster looked back and snorted. "He's in there alright. Looks like a real charmer."

Claus still hadn't said a word, and the longer it went on the more his brother worried. He was still pacing back and forth in stony silence, hands stuffed into his pockets in an effort to keep them still. Maybe it would be easier without an audience. "Why don't you two go on ahead?" Lucas suggested. "You can get to work on that last note. We'll catch up in a few."

"Yeah, sounds good," Kumatora agreed easily. "C'mon, let's give the kids some space."

Duster wasn't about to argue, although he spared a second to glance over at Claus. "No rush, Lucas," he muttered before heading deeper into the cavern with Kumatora.

Lucas stood still, one hand lazily rubbing the dark spot on Boney's forehead. He tried to come up with anything to say but drew only blanks at every turn. He had to say _something_ , though. "Claus?"

"Not now, Lucas," he hissed.

"Sorry." This hurt to watch. Lucas wondered whether he should have prepared his brother for this possibility, or even told him about that final confrontation with Porky in greater detail. Claus had rebuffed his every attempt to do so though, saying he didn't want to think about it. Maybe this was why.

After a couple awkward minutes it looked like Claus was ready to talk again, although he still hung back as far from the capsule as he could get. "Can he hear us in there?"

"Probably not," Lucas reasoned. "We can't hear him out here. Besides, it wouldn't be 'absolutely safe' if he could, would it?"

"I guess not." Claus sounded almost disappointed.

"It's—"

"He tortured me, y'know," Claus interrupted, the heat of his words stifling anything Lucas might have said. "Not for any reason. For fun. Because he could. Who was gonna stop him?"

Boney felt the tension in Lucas's hand and whined, shuffling his paws anxiously. He stayed put, though.

"It wasn't even just physical stuff," Claus went on, his voice shaking with the bitterness of his words. "A burn or a broken bone would heal, but the things he did to my head won't. He never ran out of tricks, either: a real Renaissance sadist."

Still struggling to find any words at all, Lucas finally blurted out the one phrase he could come up with. "I'm sorry."

Claus breezed past his brother's sentiment without comment. "It was all pointless, too. I was already broken. My mind was a total blank. But he never got tired of it. He was like a little kid laughing at the same joke over and over and over again, and every telling was just as hilarious as the first."

Lucas didn't answer. He was worried he might throw up if he did. Even the soft dog fur at his fingertips couldn't ease the sick feeling in his stomach.

"Remember what I said, way back in the clinic after that night at the castle?" Claus asked. "I said I was gonna find him and kill him. And if he couldn't die, I'd make him wish he could."

Lucas lurched forward, finding his voice again. "Claus, don't—"

Claus held up a hand. "I'm not, Lucas." A flash of light shone over Claus's face, illuminating it for the first time in the conversation. Lucas didn't see the anger he'd been expecting to find there, only a deep, aching frown and traces of tears glistening below his brother's eyes. "For the longest time the only thing I could think about was making him hurt as much as he hurt me. Him or anyone else. But now that we're here, I . . . I can't do this anymore. I can't hold onto this anger. I can't let it turn me into _him_."

Lucas wouldn't have expected a few simple words could bring him more relief than an hour in a hot spring. "I'm glad."

"(Me too,)" Boney whimpered.

Hugging his arms tight against his own chest, Claus refused to look at the capsule one second longer. "I don't want to be the bad guy anymore, Lucas. I want to be kind, like you."

Stepping closer, Lucas said, "You are."

Claus wasn't so sure, but it warmed his heart all the same to know what Lucas thought. "I can't forgive him. Not after what he did." He wanted to be kind, but he was no saint. "But I am gonna try to let it go."

"You mean it?"

"Yeah." The pain in his chest, the memories of a thousand different injuries, they still hurt the same as ever. He'd acted differently, though, and that had to count for something. "Come on. Let's catch up."

Boney circled around Claus's legs, bumping his body against the boy affectionately. "(It's about time,)" he panted.

The trio started walking, but Lucas seemed distracted and moved at a snail's pace. After a few yards he stopped completely, his attention fixed on the capsule. "Actually, you and Boney go on ahead. I need a minute."

Claus got an uneasy feeling from the way his brother said that, as if he wasn't all there. "You sure?"

"Yeah," Lucas nodded. "I won't be long."

Boney looked up at Claus and whimpered. "(Should we?)"

"We can wait for you," Claus offered. "It's no problem."

"Just go," Lucas urged them. "Please."

"Suit yourself," Claus relented.

Perhaps it was selfish, Lucas, thought, to want to be alone after what he'd just witnessed. If his brother couldn't have a breakdown all by his lonesome, then why should he? Then again, even now he still wasn't truly alone. Ever watchful, the mute, imposing form of the Absolutely Safe Capsule loomed over him.

Lucas wasn't too bothered by it; he even walked right over to the sphere and placed a hand on its smooth metallic surface. It was cool to the touch and slick from the moisture in the air. The capsule had a slight hum to it, or maybe that was just the vibration of something even lower, working its way up the rocks, through the metal and finally into Lucas's fingertips.

"He's pretty incredible, huh?" Lucas asked with a gentle smile. "I know, I know. I shouldn't brag. I'm proud of him, though." He cast a glance down the tunnel just to make sure he wouldn't be overheard. "My big brother . . . Look how far he's come. I guess you wouldn't know what it's like to have a brother. Maybe it would've helped."

There wasn't any answer, of course. Lucas hadn't expected one, and that suited him just fine. He'd heard enough of the megalomaniac's raving for a hundred lifetimes. "You know what the craziest thing is? I can almost understand where you were coming from. Not all of it," he shrugged, "but I know how good it feels when everything goes your way. I've literally never been happier than when my mom and brother came back. We were together again. We were happy. That's the way things _should_ be."

Lucas chuckled, surprising even himself by playing the devil's advocate. "Who could blame me? It was warm and familiar and . . . and safe." Lucas felt a chill run through his veins. The dancing light made the shadow he cast on the capsule seem larger. "Absolutely safe."

"That's why the White Ship people came here in the first place," Lucas continued, his voice quiet and his tone darkened. "The world was ending, so they ran to the only place they could. Somewhere they could start over, safe from all their old troubles. All thanks to the Dragon."

The Dark Dragon; Lucas wondered whether it even knew what it was doing while it slept. "There was only one problem," he murmured. "You found that out for yourself when you came here with your . . . What'd Leder call it? A 'Time Distorter' machine, right? You tried to leave, but there was no way back out. You were trapped on the Nowhere Islands, just like the rest of us." The villagers, the Magypsies, the Pigmasks, and the Dragon: one big dysfunctional family.

"Kumatora was right about me. This _is_ my fault," he confessed. "We could've been free, but we're not. All because I couldn't move on. I was so damn scared of losing people, and I passed that on to the Dragon. So it made the world into _this_ : a museum full of everything I was afraid to lose. A world where nothing bad ever happens and nobody has to grow up." For all its niceties, Lucas finally saw the world around him for what it had been turned into: little more than the playroom in Thunder Tower or the amusements in New Pork City.

"Claus warned me. He said I was acting like you, but I didn't want to hear it. It was staring me in the face and I never realized." A flash of red light behind him illuminated the sphere, showing him his own distorted reflection on its convex surface. "I can't hate you anymore, Porky," he whispered. "I see too much of myself in you."

Shaken, Lucas took a step back. The muscles in his neck were twisted in knots and his knees felt weak. Claus was right: it was time to let go. "I can't hold onto the past. I can't hide from the world just because it's scary. Whatever happens down here – whether or not my family's still around after this is over – I'll find a way to keep on going." He owed them that much. "I gotta go now. They're waiting for me. Goodbye, Porky. And for what it's worth . . . I hope you're happy."


	50. The Boy Named Lucas

Lucas was in no hurry. He meandered his way through the cave, using the quiet walk to collect his thoughts and shake off whatever residue was left on his psyche after his time in Porky's presence. Even at his languid pace, though, he found the path far too short for his needs: the final Needle's platform lay just ahead.

He could hear the expected chattering from Claus and Kumatora, as well as the irregular pluck of bass strings. The thrum of the Dragon's heart rose above it all, though. It had always seemed a distant thing before, barely heard amidst the hum of nature. Not here. Here it was strong and steady.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Even more than a year after pulling the final Needle, that sound took Lucas right back to that moment. This very same cave collapsing around them, his father cradling Claus's still-warm corpse, the knowing looks between Duster and Kumatora, Boney remaining steadfast beside them. And then there was the vast, unknowable darkness that drowned the whole world.

Would it turn out any different this time?

"Like a sick animal." Claus was speaking when Lucas drew close enough to overhear. He and Kumatora stood near the platform's edge with Boney lying at their feet. Duster was in the center, bass in his hands just like he'd done at Osohe Castle. "But not, like, normal sick. More like it's been sick for three weeks and all that puke and stuff has been sitting around in the sun, but then it ate the puke and threw up again. Also, burnt hair."

"Mm-hmm, I could see that," Kumatora nodded. "I was thinking more like if you took all the grossest, most disgusting socks you could find that hadn't been washed in forever, and you stuffed them all full of garbage. Then you shoved all the garbage socks in an outhouse until the door wouldn't close and stood at the bottom of the cesspit."

"Nasty," Claus cackled. He was about to say something when he noticed his brother approaching and changed tack. "Hey, Lucas. We were playing 'What do you think it smells like inside that capsule?' if you want a turn."

"Maybe later," Lucas smiled. "How's it going?"

"We're as ready as we'll ever be," Duster announced with a quick mark in his notebook.

"Huh. That was fast," said Claus.

"Woof! (So what happens now?)" Boney asked.

Duster could only shrug. "We try it out and hope for the best."

"Don't you need to know the order of the notes or something?" Claus wondered.

Lucas stepped forward. "I was thinking about that, actually. How about the order we pulled the Needles in?"

"It's as good a place to start as any," Duster agreed. "And if that doesn't work, there's only a few thousand more combinations to try. Better not waste any time, right?"

"Right," Lucas chuckled. "I think it went Osohe Castle, Murasaki Forest, Snowcap Mountain, Fire Mountain, Tanetane Island, Chupichupyoi Temple and then here."

"Yeah, you got it," Claus confirmed.

Duster nodded along, making a few more scratches in his notebook. "Simple enough. Who's ready to try it out?"

"Woof! (I'm always ready,)" Boney barked excitedly. He jogged over to Duster to get a closer look.

Kumatora huffed, but followed Boney's lead. "Just do your thing."

Glancing over his notes one more time, Duster tucked the book in his back pocket and moved his fingers into position. Lucas and Claus quickly went to join Boney and Kumatora in crowding around Duster, making for a far more intimate audience then he was used to.

Shutting out the world around him, Duster closed his eyes and plucked the first string. The deep, rich tone resonated throughout his body and into the ground. Sliding his pinky finger up, he flicked his wrist again and produced a second note, slightly higher than the first. Then the next, higher still. His calloused fingers glided over the strings with practiced ease. Another note, and another, and another, each progressively higher than the last while still matching the low tones of the heartbeat they were meant to mimic. One last wave of his hand. One last note.

Duster blinked. Nothing had changed. The Dragon's heartbeat still filled the chamber. The unsettling glow from the abyss still shone on the walls. The last echo from his instrument was met only with cold indifference.

"One down," Kumatora sighed. "Only another five thousand or so left to try, huh?"

Boney yawned and laid down next to Duster, settling in for the long haul.

"I'd better make a list of things we've tried," Duster groaned, reaching for his notebook again.

"Hang on. Let's think about it for one minute," Lucas suggested. "There's no way we're supposed to brute-force this. We're missing something. Don't you think it means anything that those notes lined up from lowest to highest?"

"It'd be a weird coincidence otherwise," Claus admitted.

Duster tapped his chin. "What are you thinking?"

The boys merely shrugged and Kumatora folded her arms. "You're the music man. You figure it out," she said.

Duster groaned. Whatever magic they thought a few musical notes contained, these were just lines on a piece of paper. "Well nothing stands out, really. It's not even a good melody. The most you could say is that it's kind of like a weird scale."

"Weird how?" Claus asked.

"Well for starters, there's a sharp and a couple flats in here. Plus, the interval sequence is—" Looking at the faces of his companions, Duster realized nothing he said was landing. "It's just wonky," he shrugged. "It's definitely not any of the scales I know. It's only got seven notes and all the ones I've learned have eight."

"Are ya tellin' me we're missing a note?" Kumatora growled.

Boney let out a whine. "(We better not be.)"

"No, I'm just saying this isn't a scale," Duster clarified. "It just resembles one. There were only seven Needles so we _can't_ be missing a note."

"But what if we are?" Claus wondered.

"Then we'd be up a creek without a paddle," said Duster. "We wouldn't know where to find this eighth note, and we couldn't exactly guess it."

Claus didn't know the first thing about music, but that didn't keep him from offering his two DP. "There can't be THAT many notes to pick from."

"They're not just notes," Lucas reminded everyone. "They're heartbeats."

"Notes, heartbeats; they didn't work, whatever they are," said Kumatora. "Lucas is right, though. I'm not too keen on making Duster try every possible combination without thinking this through first. Especially not when there might be a whole other note we haven't found yet."

"Let's not jump to any conclusions," Duster cut in. "It could be as simple as reversing the order. We can't assume we've missed something."

"I dunno. This entire plan has been built on assumptions," Kumatora pointed out. "For all we know this has been one big wild goose chase from the beginning."

"I don't think so," Claus answered. "These notes or heartbeats or whatever we're calling them? They're real. We can hear 'em for ourselves. It's gotta mean something."

Kumatora sighed, silently agreeing with Claus. There was more to this, but what? They'd come to another dead end; she couldn't be surprised by that anymore. Ever since she'd been stymied by a collapsed floor in Osohe Castle a year earlier, she'd run into one blocked path after another. Bashing he head against a wall never yielded any real solutions; instead the only lucky breaks came from trying something new or having a solution practically fall into her lap, like when she just happened to bump into the one kid in the whole world who could tell her about the Magypsies. And then she remembered something. "Hey, Lucas?"

"Yeah?"

She studied him for a moment, asking herself how a scrawny kid with fair hair, doe eyes and soft features could be such a big deal. "You said you passed your heart on to the Dragon, didn't you?"

"Uh-huh," Lucas nodded. "When I pulled the Needles."

He'd made a good point: these were more than just notes. "What if the missing heartbeat is yours?"

"Woof! (Now that's an idea,)" Boney barked.

Claus looked surprised. It made sense, in its own weird way. "I could believe that."

Lucas held his palm to his own chest, barely feeling the soft thrum within. He had to admit, it wasn't the craziest idea they'd thrown around. But he had a better one. "No," he muttered. "Not mine."

"Why not?' Claus asked.

"Because the Dragon already has my heart." Lucas smiled gently and reached out to rest a hand on his brother's shoulder. "If I was the Dragon, I'd want the heartbeat I never got to hear before."

Claus felt every eye in the cave drift in his direction. He didn't much care for it.

Sidling up to Duster's ear, Kumatora whispered, "What do you think?"

"We might as well try it," he murmured back.

"No, no, no." Claus backed off ever so slightly. "You were the one that woke it up, Lucas. If anybody's got a connection to the Dragon, it's you."

"If I'm wrong then we can try it with mine," Lucas promised. "I don't think I'm wrong, though."

Curse his brother's sensibility. "Ugh. Fine! Whatever," Claus pouted. "But we can't do it here. If Duster's gonna be pokin' around my chest I want him to be able to hear what he's doing."

"He's got a point," Duster admitted. The electrical buzz in the air and the Dragon's own heartbeat were sure to drown out the tiny patters in Claus's veins.

Lucas only grinned. "I've got it covered." Without explaining, he slipped the backpack off his shoulder and started rooting through its contents while the other four watched. It didn't take long before he yanked something free. "Here we go!"

Claus recognized it immediately: a stethoscope, the very same one from the clinic that Lucas had used to help him hear the beating of his own heart on the day he regained his memories.

"Dr. Andonuts gave it to me," Lucas explained while uncoiling the messy tubing, "along with a bunch of other stuff. You never know what'll come in handy, do you?"

"You really are ready for anything," Duster commented as Lucas handed the stethoscope over.

Kumatora cracked a smile, seeming reinvigorated. "Let's get to it, then."

As the only one not totally in love with this plan, Claus rolled his eyes. "Wonderful."

Duster was busy fitting the earpieces in place and warming the instrument's end. "C'mon over," he beckoned, still supporting his bass carefully on his shoulder. "I don't bite."

Seeing no way to put it off any longer, Claus inched forward. Then his brother spoke up: "You better take your shirt off."

"What?!" Claus squeaked indignantly. He stopped in his tracks, folded his arms against his stomach and said, "I'm not taking my shirt off for some creepy old dude!"

Lucas sighed at his suddenly squeamish twin. "Don't make it weird."

"You can leave it on," Duster assured him. "I just need you to lift up the front a bit. Okay?"

"Yeah, _I'm_ the one making it weird," Claus whispered to his brother. "Meanwhile, Duster's the one getting to second base with me while everybody watches. No wonder you didn't want to do this. Jerk."

"Just relax," Lucas laughed and patted Claus on the back. "At least you're not in a hot spring with a naked Magypsy, right?"

"Huh?"

"Nothing. Ready, Duster?"

"Whenever you are," he nodded.

Resigned to his fate, Claus said, "Let's get this over with."

The redhead trudged over to Duster, grumbling under his breath the whole way. They were the only ones who didn't see the humor in the situation, with Lucas, Kumatora and even Boney all smiling at his discomfort.

Rolling his shirt up with both hands, Claus sucked in a breath and looked to the side. Thankfully, Duster appreciated his situation enough not to crack any jokes and simply placed the stethoscope's end to his chest and listened. It was cold, of course, but nothing worth throwing a fit over. After a few adjustments it seemed like Duster found the right place.

"Hold this right there," he instructed the boy.

Claus nodded, replacing Duster's hand with his own and letting his shirt droop back down. With both hands free again, Duster removed one of the earpieces and started strumming his bass for comparison. It only took a few minutes before he seemed satisfied. He'd worked lightning-quick compared to most of the notes he'd had to sort through, not that Claus appreciated the extra effort.

"So?" Lucas asked hopefully.

Duster rolled his neck. "Let's give it another shot," he said, handing the stethoscope back to Lucas.

"Couldn't go worse than last time, right?" Kumatora snorted.

Claus glowered at his twin. "This better be worth it."

"It will be," Lucas fired back. "I'm sure of it."

Boney wagged his tail. "Woof! (Then I'm sure too.)"

"Everyone set?" Duster asked.

"Get on with it," Kumatora waved him along. Her impatience was starting to show through; all this standing around had that effect on her.

Sliding his fingers into position, Duster took a breath and started anew. One, two. The Dragon's heartbeat served as a handy metronome, its steady pounding guiding Duster's rhythm. The notes came easily to the bassist's steady hands. Three, four. There was no artistry in the simple progression of notes, yet the atmosphere felt denser with every successive strike. A swell of some unnamed ether flooded his senses. Five, six. Something shifted. Whether it was in him or out there he couldn't say, but he could feel the weight of it. Seven, eight. With the hum of the final note, the air cleared.

Lucas stumbled, a wave of vertigo pushing up through his every vein and artery all at once. Pressure built up behind his eyes so he shut them tight, fearing they'd explode out of his skull otherwise. He was falling. Flying. Drowning. Dragged along an icy riverbed, breathless and confused. He reached out, finding nothing to hold on to. Nothing to anchor him. No one to save him.

And then there was light, grey and muted but blinding at the same time. He pushed forward at a snail's pace, his feet ghosting across the floor and his mind hazed by a dreamlike trance. He was somewhere familiar, but unable to place it. The color was all washed away from the world. There were voices in his ear: his mom and dad's. He couldn't make out any words, though, and he couldn't see them no matter how hard he looked. Instead his hands found a wobbly railing, about waist-high, the only thing solid in the mist. He drew nearer to it, the shape of a bassinet dimly coming into focus.

He recoiled at the sound of a piercing cry. Unlike his parents' words, this was clear as day and felt like cold metal scraping on his bones. It stopped after a second or two, but was quickly echoed from a second bassinet beside the first. The throbbing in his skull was back and getting worse.

Something brushed past him. Suddenly the crying stopped and his pain went with it. His nose twitched at the subtle presence of a familiar perfume: the scent of his mother. His body could tell it was her even before his mind, and his every muscle relaxed.

Lucas woke up to find himself lying on his side with a dull throbbing in his head. At least he assumed he was awake; what he could make out when he cracked open one eye left him doubting that. For one thing, he should be in a cave instead of a meadow full of pink grass. For another, the sky didn't normally make him worry about having a seizure.

Right. Duster's "scale" or whatever it was. No one seemed to know what it would do, but if Lucas had made any guesses, _this_ wouldn't have been near the top of his list. Lifting his head out of the dirt, he rolled forward slightly to push himself up with one hand. His muscles complained every inch of the way, but he had to get his bearings.

For starters, he still had all his things with him, so that was good. From the mud on his shoes to the heft of his backpack, he was all accounted for. On the other hand, a quick scan of his surroundings revealed that, although there were no enemies to be seen, none of the others were here with him either. On balance, he probably would have been better off butt naked if he'd kept at least one of his companions. Embarrassed, but still better off.

The boy named Lucas was all alone in a far-away place.

He rose up on two wobbly legs and brushed the dirt off his side. The garish colors made his eyes sting, but his survival depended on keeping them open. Cupping his hands around his mouth, Lucas called out, "Hello?" No response. Not even an echo; there weren't any mountains or cliffs or trees or really anything for sound to bounce off of. It wasn't like he was on an island floating in the void, either. Rather, it was as if the world rapidly curved away – like he was standing on a sphere floating in space, and if he walked a few hundred yards in any straight line he'd wind up on the opposite side.

So he resolved to do precisely that. He needed information, after all, and by the looks of this place it wouldn't take too long to gather. Lucas picked a direction and started walking. Strangely, it didn't feel like he was heading downhill, even though he could clearly see the slope in front of him. If anything, the strain on his legs made it seem like he was climbing higher. Maybe he was. Would he even be able to tell? The distinction between up and down was a lot blurrier in this place than he liked, and it was messing with his head.

Before long something rose into view. It was Boney's red-roofed doghouse, with its weathered planks and sturdy frame. Lucas had watched with rapt interest as his father built it back when Boney was just a puppy. He'd even helped out, as much as a young, eager boy could; Claus was too busy playing with their new pet to lend a hand. The years of use saw tiny improvements here and there: a patched and reinforced roof when it started to leak; a widened door once Boney got too big for the old one; new, waterproof planks when the old ones succumbed to the rain. Flint was diligent about keeping it every bit as well-maintained as the house he lived in, and Lucas was there to help out every time. There were no half-measures when it came to family, and Boney was that in spades.

Unfortunately, the dog wasn't there. His scent lingered on the wood and there were traces of shed fur, but Boney himself was nowhere to be found. The silence was almost mocking. There should be barking, bleating, and birds in the sky. The crash of waves on the shore. His father's tools banging away at something or other. Claus laughing over some dumb joke or his mother humming to herself while she hung clothes up to dry. But it was dead quiet.

The boy named Lucas knelt by an empty doghouse.

He got back up again and kept walking at a brisk pace. Circling this little globe of his (all the way around it at least twice, by his reckoning) had the mystifying effect of continually revealing new sights: he walked past trees he'd grown to love, his grandfather's cabin, Reggie's tipi, even one of the Magypsy's distinctive seashell houses. At first he checked them all, but each turned out the same: abandoned like stale cookies. He never even crossed paths with as much as a stray dog or a save frog. The sights kept coming though, first in a trickle but eventually in a deluge. Before long he may as well have been walking down New Pork City's main thoroughfare for how many husks of buildings were crammed together.

Like the doghouse, they were empty. Silent. Lifeless. It reminded him of his home after his mom died and Claus disappeared. His dad was never around and Boney often went with him, leaving Lucas alone in a dead house. In time, the same thing happened to the whole village as the friends and neighbors he'd grown up with left. Whether they died like Scamp, started working for the Pigmasks like Isaac, or simply moved away like everyone else, the villagers gradually forsook Tazmily. They forgot all about the simple, peaceful lives they lived – the sort of life that Lucas couldn't let go of.

He wondered: was it always going to turn out like that? Left behind and stuck with no one but himself for company? It was turning into a running joke, one he had plenty of time to brood on in that big, empty house of his. Back then, he convinced himself that he was nothing but a burden. He couldn't save his family; all he could do was cry.

He had nightmares about how much everyone hated him, how the other villagers would spit on him, throw rocks at him and run him out of town. The worst was his dad; Lucas would wake up blubbering after he dreamt of being screamed at, kicked and beaten by him. Yet it was almost cathartic in a way reality never was. When he was awake, everyone simply ignored him.

Lucas refused to be a burden. He'd never complain about being hungry, or lonely, or sad. He had to prove he wasn't just a crybaby. That was why he got the dragos to save Kumatora, Wess and Salsa from Fassad. It was his reason for going to Club Titiboo in search of Duster, eventually leading him to find Claus and save the world.

The boy named Lucas learned some bad magic.

He balled his hands into fists. It was true: even after all he'd been through, he still made a terrible mistake in the end. With the merest taste of the Dragon's power, Lucas had bent the entire world to fit HIS ideal story. He didn't want to hurt anyone; he wanted them to be happy, and his world reflected that. But that never should have been his decision to make. One reckless, well-intentioned wish had upended Kumatora's entire life. How many more people had he unknowingly hurt?

The power of the very Earth itself was never meant for human hands. He knew that now.

At last, his steps took him beyond the buildings to a grassy ridge. Its edges gradually tapered until he found himself standing on the far edge of his little globe, teetering on the precipice of an endless sky. He only recognized where he was when the grave came into view.

 _Wife of Flint._

 _Mother of the twins Claus and Lucas._

 _Daughter of Alec._

 _May the beautiful Hinawa rest in peace here for all time._

He'd read those words often enough to recite them in his sleep. This was the end of the line; he'd run as far as he could and now there was no place left to go.

The boy named Lucas could not escape.

"Stop it . . ."

The boy named Lucas made sure no one else could either.

"Shut up!"

The boy named Lucas never had to be alone again.

He clamped his hands over his ears and clenched his jaw in hopes of shutting out whatever was haunting him. He knew it was a futile effort. Wherever he might run, he couldn't leave himself behind.

The boy named Lucas . . .

The boy named Lucas . . .

The boy named Lucas . . .

The boy named Lucas . . . . . .

Lucas let out a tremendous scream. Awash in anger, he did the only thing he could and kicked the gravestone. It crumbled under the force of the blow, and before he could even process what was happening, the cliff he stood on crumbled as well.

He was falling, or at least he thought he was. The sky gave way to a vast, black sea. Before anything else, there came the heartbeat, the sole tether in the darkness. He'd been here before, and knew it was anything but empty. At least he wasn't alone anymore.

Lucas recalled the bright room, the sound of crying, and his mother. She was always there for him. Even when he couldn't touch her anymore, she was never far. All the anger building up inside him, all the fear and doubt and shame – he let it go. It wasn't until he choked back a sob that he felt the tears on his face. With heavy limbs, Lucas wiped his eyes dry. He'd made his share of mistakes, but he would do better starting here and now.

Guided by the Dark Dragon's beating heart, Lucas's feet found their way to a path which hadn't been there before. It was calling him closer, watching intently like a dog sizing up a ball.

". . . Hello?"

No answer. Why should it start now? His eyes were no good, so he closed them and listened. That was when he perceived it. It wasn't a sound, exactly. Neither was it any other sensation he could put a name to. The Dragon was right in front of him, and an unexpected recognition blossomed inside Lucas.

"Oh," he gasped, caught off guard by the pleasant surprise.

There were no scales or claws or fangs. No leathery wings or fiery breath like in his bedtime stories. It wasn't even as big as he'd been led to believe. When Lucas finally looked upon the Dragon, what he saw was you.


	51. Like a Stick No One Loves

At first, Kumatora wasn't aware of anything beyond her own shallow breathing – not until she rolled onto her side and caught a whiff of something foul that yanked her back to the waking world. Only then did she begin to feel the ache of her joints and the spinning of her head. She winked one eye open and spied Duster beside her, his mouth agape and drool pooling beneath it. That explained the smell.

Her mind leapt from one question to the next. Where were they? How'd they get there? How long was she out of it? One thing at a time, she scolded herself. For starters, they were on a bed – a comfy one at that. Her hazed vision picked up on the turquoise linens. Though still not fully awake, one word came to mind: tacky.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead."

That voice, with its silken texture, startled Kumatora into sitting bolt upright. Her eyes panned across a large, circular room to a modest breakfast table and chairs on the wall to her left, where her host sat facing her. It was all far too blue for her tastes, from the tablecloth to the walls to the curtains. As if her head weren't already pounding from the notes echoing around inside. She pinched the bridge of her nose and ran her parched tongue over her teeth.

"Where're we at?" Kumatora grunted to the disinterested figure at the table.

"This is my house," he explained, "which makes that my bed you're tracking dirt on."

"Mm." Her eyes were finally starting to focus again and Kumatora caught her first good look at the stranger. He was a most peculiar person; bedecked in a navy blue cocktail gown with matching stilettos and the biggest, pinkest, most bouffant beehive hairdo Kumatora had ever seen, the stocky figure left an instant impression on her. "Who're you?"

He quirked one thick eyebrow and ponderously pursed his scarlet lips. "Oh now that _is_ rich," he answered after a moment's thought. "If you want to know, then come and sit with me. Until then, I suggest you enjoy it while it lasts."

"Enjoy what?"

"Ignorance, silly girl," he scoffed. "Once you lose it, it's gone for good."

Kumatora scowled, being in no mood for games. "I don't understand."

He stifled a giggle. "That's precisely my point."

With no recourse but to play along, Kumatora swung her legs out onto the floor and stood up. Her outfit was wrinkled and her hair was a mess; not that either was too unusual for her. She rolled her neck, cracked her knuckles, and sauntered over to the table where she flopped down in the empty chair and glowered.

"Straight to the point then, hmm?" He began to lazily peel a banana while he spoke. "You can call me Locria."

"Kumatora."

"Charmed, darling," he replied, "but we've already met."

"We have?"

"Oh yes," Locria nodded, tossing the empty peel onto the table and taking a moment to study the fruit. "You see, I am – as far as I'm aware – the last of the Magypsies."

"You're a Magypsy?" Kumatora furrowed her brow. The more she looked at Locria's face with its thick, dark eyebrows and dense stubble, the more familiar it seemed. In fact, all of this seemed more and more familiar by the second. "Lucas told me about you. He said you were all dead."

Locria's teeth snapped shut on the banana upon hearing that name. "Oh?" he asked, his saccharine tone doing a poor job of hiding the intensity of his reaction. "Don't tell me you've never sat down and chatted with a ghost before."

Kumatora shrugged. "It's kind of a given when your family's house is full of 'em."

The Magypsy swallowed a mouthful of banana. "I suppose it would be. Just think of me as a ghost who's very much alive. Again." Locria seemed to be processing that notion even as it left his lips. "That wasn't the case only a few minutes ago, so imagine my surprise at finding myself suddenly sitting here back in my home with the two of you lying on my bed."

Casting a quick glance back at Duster's sleeping form, Kumatora bit her lip. "Yeah, about that . . . What're we doin' here?"

"Now THAT is an excellent question," Locria grinned.

His expectant look told Kumatora that he wasn't going to be any help. She'd have to do all the heavy lifting herself – not that it took much. "Duster's melody," she realized. "Damn. It worked after all. Looks like I owe him dinner." Taking in her surroundings again with fresh eyes, she mulled over the implications of where she really was. "Is this a magicant?"

"Hmph," Locria sneered. He popped the rest of the banana into his mouth, wiping his hands and chewing even as he finished his thought. "Leave it to a neophyte to mistake this place for a magicant."

Leaning one arm heavily on the table, Kumatora matched Locria's condescension with a piercing glare. "Well if it's not, then what is it?"

Locria held up his palms in feigned defeat. "I haven't the foggiest."

"Big help you are," Kumatora snorted.

"More than you know, girlie." Locria's voice dipped lower, his amused expression turning sour. "Magypsies like me can tell you everything when it comes to nearly any mental, mystical, or metaphysical phenomena. The fact that I don't have a clue what this is means you screwed up royally."

With a thoroughly unimpressed expression, Kumatora leaned back and folded her arms. "Well if you're such an expert then you figure it out."

"Did Ionia teach you nothing? Useless!" Locria's exasperated outburst was met with only distant recognition on Kumatora's face. "Yes, of course. You probably don't even know who that is, do you?"

"I know the name, but . . ." Kumatora hesitated. Lucas had told her all about Ionia, but for the first time the name actually meant something. Where once she only drew a blank, now there were real images and an insistent tug on her heart. "Maybe I do know her."

"Lovely," Locria said with a roll of his eyes. "While you solve that little mystery, I'll determine what you've done to break the universe."

Snapping back to the present, Kumatora's scowl returned. "We didn't do crap."

Locria gestured toward himself. "Then why, exactly, am I here?"

He had a point, not that Kumatora was ready to admit it. "Hey, don't look at me. You're the one who should be dead."

"This is clearly your fault."

"How is this MY fault?"

"Well I certainly didn't have a hand in it," Locria scoffed. "Up until a few minutes ago I didn't even HAVE hands."

Kumatora didn't exactly trust her host. Part of it was the Magypsy's attitude, but there was more to it. Whenever those beady eyes turned her way, she felt the blood boil in her veins. It was on the tip of her tongue, taunting her from just beyond the edge of consciousness. For now, though, she needed answers and Locria was willing to help. "All we did was play a few musical notes we got from the Needles. That's it. How was I supposed to know it'd bring you back from wherever you were? Or . . . weren't, I guess."

"Well whatever you were trying to do, here I am," Locria pouted. "What do you want with me?"

"I don't even know you!"

Locria leaned in and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "If not you, then who? That bum over there? The blonde brat you dote over? I'm sure you've got him tucked away nearby. Or are you going to tell me this was the dog's idea? No, I can see your fingerprints all over this mess."

"What makes you think I'm behind this?"

Locria swept his hand over his body to draw even more attention to his appearance. "Because no one but you would remember me this way."

Kumatora's voice caught in her throat. She wanted to deny it, but ever since she woke up something had been gnawing at her. This wasn't mere déjà vu. She'd been here before. She knew this stranger. She only needed to admit it. "Why are you here?"

"The only one who can answer that is you."

Kumatora's face darkened and she clenched her teeth. ". . . Fassad."

The Magypsy relaxed, sinking back into his chair with a smug little smile. "Let's stick with 'Locria' from now on. I think we're both a little too big to play dress-up anymore, 'princess.'"

"I should wring your neck, ya cheap bastard."

If anything, the insult only made Locria's smile wider. "Glad to see you've finally connected the dots. You certainly took your sweet time, didn't you?"

Kumatora shook off the pain building in the center of her forehead as memories of the Magypsy rushed back all at once. The shady salesman and his pet monkey; attempting to flee through Sunshine Forest; an auspicious banana peel atop Thunder Tower. But there were also older memories as well, of meeting an especially aloof Magypsy as a little girl, one with a special fondness for solitude.

"So tell me," Locria continued, "is it everything you imagined? Are all your questions finally answered? Have your memories given you the meaning that was missing from your life? Or is it all one big disappointment?"

Refusing to give Locria the satisfaction of making her flinch, Kumatora said, "Next to you, nothing could be disappointing."

"Careful, kitten. If you get your claws out, you're bound to get scratched."

"Maybe you should follow your own advice," Kumatora suggested. "Last I checked, we're four for four."

Try as he might, Locria couldn't completely hide his instinctive grimace from Kumatora's sharp sight. "And last _I_ checked, you are very much alone this time. Not that I'm in a rush to put this poor body of mine through any unnecessary abuse now that I've finally got it back."

"Still sore about the whole cyborg thing?"

"Furious," Locria acknowledged with a momentarily stern expression. "But if I learned anything from losing my voice, it's an appreciation for verbal sparring."

"Blowhard."

"Simply cutting, darling," said Locria. "Do you kiss your dead mother with that mouth?"

"At least I had one."

"Of course you did, 'princess'. Just keep telling yourself that." Locria gave another caustic smile. Kumatora would swear he could make paint peel by simply staring at it. "You know, there was one thing I always wondered."

"What?" Kumatora asked curtly.

Locria cheekily cocked his head to the side. "Why didn't you tell any of your little friends who I was?"

"Hmm?"

"Did you not know yourself?" he continued. "Was my performance truly that immaculate?"

"No, I knew. Ever since I saw you 'n Salsa in the town square, actually." The last thing Kumatora wanted was to feed Locria's ego. "It didn't seem important."

"No? You didn't think they should know who their enemy was?"

"I had my reasons," Kumatora shrugged. "I'm sure you had a few of your own."

"Nwehe," Locria chuckled, peering through Kumatora's false indifference to catch her glancing over to the bed. "Useless sentimentality for that 'pet' of yours, was it? How predictable."

"You're one to talk about pets," Kumatora countered.

Unexpectedly, Locria's expression actually seemed to soften at that. "I take it you ran across my little mouse friend. Even I have my weaknesses." With his hands folded on his belly, Locria stared off to the far end of the room. "Most of us kept pets from time to time. Lydia and her rabbits. Missy and her octopi. It only makes sense that you'd pick up the habit from Ionia."

"She didn't have any pets."

"Of course she did," Locria said in an intolerably saccharine tone. "She had you, after all."

Kumatora huffed at the slight. "Y'know, I'm startin' to miss the horns. You were a lot more bearable when I couldn't tell what you were honkin' about."

"No need for hostility. I'm merely stating the truth." The way Locria preened and puffed out his chest made it obvious that the truth was far from his principle concern. "If you should be angry at anyone, it ought to be Ionia. Goodness knows you've plenty of reason to be. It must have stung when she sent you off to pull her Needle and end her life."

"If we didn't then you mooks would've done it first," Kumatora reasoned.

Undeterred, Locria persisted. He'd get a rise out of her sooner or later. "And yet it was selfish of her all the same. That's how it always was with the Magypsies: so self-indulgent that they couldn't spare a single minute of their nearly endless lifetimes to think about someone else."

"Pfft. Shows how much you know."

"True or false: Ionia begged you to remember her after she was gone."

"Sure, but—"

"And she wasn't the only one, either. How many departed humans do you suppose they remembered? Any?" Locria clicked his tongue. "Disgustingly egotistical, even to their last breaths. As if living for an eon wasn't enough, they implored you to let their memories endure a bit longer." Suddenly, a fiendish smirk spread across Locria's broad face and his beady eyes met Kumatora's directly. "Of course then you went and forgot they ever existed. You couldn't even fulfill their dying wishes. That's so delicious that it's downright decadent. Nwehehe! Nweheheheehee!"

Caught up in a fit of laughter, Locria held onto his belly with one hand and slapped the table with the other. Kumatora was reaching the end of her patience when the racket caused Duster to stir from his sleep. "Zuh?"

Kumatora's disposition turned on a dime. "Duster!" she called, rising from her seat. "You're awake."

The thief sniffed and looked around the strange room. When Kumatora appeared at his side and offered him a hand, he asked, "Where are we?"

"We were just leaving," she explained while helping him up. Any thought for Locria was already shoved to the back of her mind.

Duster went along, standing on wobbly legs even as he blinked at his surroundings. "Where'd my bass go?"

"We'll figure that out later," Kumatora assured him. "Now that you're up we can look for Boney and the boys. C'mon."

Duster nodded in agreement, despite a splitting headache. He wasn't about to lounge around while their party was incomplete.

Locria's laughter had faded down to a bare chortle. He didn't move or even object when Kumatora headed for the front door. Rather, he seemed almost meditative, stroking his fingers over the stubble around his mouth while his guests went to leave.

With Duster hobbling along behind her, Kumatora felt a wave of relief. She'd wasted enough time here already. Then, as she went to turn the knob, it refused to give way. She jiggled it a second time, pushing and pulling and even kicking the door but with no better results.

"Having trouble, darling?" Locria asked with a smarmy little smirk.

Turning around and shouting across the room, Kumatora let off some steam. "Is this how you make friends, Locria? You lock them up in your house so they can't escape?"

Locria shrugged. "Actually, I was hoping you'd get out of my hair. It seems we're both doomed to disappointment."

Apparently noticing the Magypsy for the first time, Duster offered Locria an awkward wave. It was not returned.

Kumatora stepped back into the room. "Well?" she asked, hands on her hips and tapping her foot. "How do we get out?"

"You could always try the window," Locria offered. "Not that I'd expect it to turn out any different."

She turned around again. "You know how to pick locks, right Duster? See what you can do."

Even without any of his tools on hand, Duster nodded. "I'll try."

"You really aren't getting this, girlie," Locria guffawed.

"Shut up." Her words had none of the expected bite in them.

For once, Locria seemed happy to oblige. It was Duster who quickly broke the standoff.

"Hey, um . . . there's a problem."

"What now?" Kumatora groaned.

"This door isn't locked," he explained.

"Bull crap. You saw me try to open it."

"Well there's no lock," said Duster. "None at all. I can't pick something that's not there."

Kumatora scowled and started to pace in a small circle. Her frustration had started to show through.

"Is that truly so surprising?" Locria asked, having decided it was the right time to rejoin the conversation and twist the knife. "Did you really think this place – whatever it is – would obey all your silly little rules?"

"Well there must be SOME way out," Kumatora asserted.

"For sure," said Duster. "We've made it out of tighter spots than this before."

"I'm sure you have," Locria beamed smugly. "But that assumes you really do want to leave."

Kumatora bristled at the implication. "Do you think I'd stick around one second longer if I had a choice?"

"Who can say?" Locria asked. "Then again, you are the one who brought us here in the first place."

Kumatora went back to pacing. "This is all that damn Dragon's doing. Again!" she muttered.

"Don't go blaming the Dark Dragon," Locria chided her. "You're the one who stupidly toyed around with its power – one you don't even understand, I might add. Honestly, what is it with you humans? You, Porky, the ones who ended the world; it's like you can't help but get in over your heads."

"We weren't 'toying' with anything," Kumatora objected. "We came here to stop it."

Locria had saved the biggest roll he could make with his eyes for just such an occasion. "Well you've done a bang-up job so far. Thanks to you, we've got front row seats for the true end of everything."

"Whaddya mean?!"

Shifting in his seat, Locria squinted at Kumatora. "Did you really think you could crack open the Dark Dragon's heart and there wouldn't be consequences? That we were keeping this power sealed away for no good reason?" He paused, tenting his hands in front of his face and leaning forward. "You've seen only a taste of what it can do. In its hands, reality itself can be remade – or unmade – on a whim. If you think it'll stop with just the three of us then you're an even bigger idiot than I thought."

If Locria had hoped to shake Kumatora's resolve, it hadn't worked. Instead, she stared back and cracked a smile. "I'm not worried," she said, "'cause I know whose heart it's got."

"Lucas . . ." he hissed, sending flecks of spittle sailing into the air. The name burned like acid on Locria's lips. "And just how well DO you know that runt? Is his heart truly so good and pure that you'd trust it with the fate of the entire universe?"

"Maybe I don't know everything about Lucas," Kumatora confessed, "but I know I'd trust him with this a hell of a lot more than you or me or anyone else."

"Then why didn't you remember me?"

For the first time, Kumatora had no retort.

No sound could be sweeter to Locria's ears than Kumatora's silence. It brought that same fiendish smile back to his face, though this time it remained hidden behind his tented fingers. "And do you want to know the best part? Happiness could've been yours had you simply stayed in Tazmily and lived quietly, without a care in the world. What a waste. I'd laugh if it weren't so pitiful."

Duster, who'd been watching the whole scene unfold in silence, inched closer to Kumatora. Before he could reach her, though, she found her voice. "Yeah, not buyin' it."

"How fortunate," Locria mused, "because for once I've nothing to sell."

Kumatora's gloves creaked when she balled her fists. "Maybe you're ready to throw in the towel, but I'm not. Ya see, I'm still standin', and as long as I am the whole damn world can do the same."

"Stubborn," Locria spat, "but your bravado won't do you any favors here. Not against me. Not against the Dark Dragon. Sooner or later, you won't be 'standing' any longer."

"Maybe, but if you think I won't put up a fight you're dead wrong."

"That is why you'll never find happiness," Locria noted, his words tinged with disdain. "What do you expect to get out of this endless battle? A home? A family? A place where you belong? I think not. In the end, you're always going to be the same angry little girl, trapped on the outside looking in."

"Idiot," Kumatora growled, taking another step forward and rising up to her full height. "I don't need any of that stuff. Knowing where I came from doesn't tell me a damn thing about who I am. If I want to find that out, then all I need's a place to go and legs to take me there and I'll discover it on the way."

"Very inspirational, darling," Locria said as he eased back into his chair once again. "'Be true to yourself' and all that garbage. Did you read that in a fortune cookie?"

Kumatora spun the question around. "How about you, huh? Did turning traitor help _you_ find happiness?"

Locria's face sagged and he suddenly appeared much older. "You know what they say: you can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs."

"Well I'm no cook," Kumatora snorted, "but we're about to break a whole lot of eggs. I can't wait to find out what we make with 'em."

"Stupid girl," Locria croaked. "You have no idea what you're in for. The Dark Dragon will turn your own heart against you. It will feed on your fear until you're nothing but a used-up husk."

Kumatora towered over the waning figure on the opposite end of the room. "That's the difference between us," she said, her voice finding a resolute calmness that hadn't been there before. "You run from your fears, but I relish mine. Fear's just another hill for me to climb. I'll take whatever the Dragon can throw my way and come out stronger on the other side."

A click from the door drew everyone's attention. Duster grabbed the knob and it turned easily. Kumatora felt the same relief from earlier wash over her again, and a smile blossomed across her face. She looked back to bid her host a long-overdue final farewell, only to find the Magypsy's chair empty.

"You ready to go?" Duster asked without further comment.

Kumatora nodded to him. "Always."

They stepped through the open door together. Neither of them looked back.


	52. That Rambunctious Little Squirt

Bare stone made for a pretty sorry bed as far as Claus was concerned. For once he actually appreciated having his rest intruded by the all-too-familiar smell of dog breath when Boney poked his snout up to his master's face and started licking. The boy lazily batted him away and sat up with a yawn.

"Woof! (You're awake!)" Boney sat at attention, wagging his tail. "Woof woof! (You're not hurt, are you?)"

Claus rolled his neck around and stretched his arms out behind him. He was a bit stiff, but that was the worst of it. "Don't think so. What happened?"

"(We fell asleep or something,)" Boney whined. "(Everyone else was gone by the time I woke up.)"

"Huh?" Claus peered into the darkness, confirming for himself that there was no trace of Lucas, Duster or Kumatora. "Weird."

"(I can't smell them anywhere,)" Boney chuffed. "Woof! (I'm worried.)"

Claus nodded in silent agreement and stood up to start searching. Only then did he notice how clearly he could see Boney now. At first he thought his eyes must have adjusted, but no. There was a light coming from behind him. He turned to look and nearly fell over at what he saw.

Jutting out of the ground, all aglow in a warm, inviting light, was a Needle.

"Boney?" he asked. "Are you seeing this?"

"Woof! (Yeah, it's a Needle alright.)"

"But what's it—" Before Claus could get out the rest of his question, a more pressing one popped into his mind. "How'd you know that?"

Boney crooked his head on its side, hesitant to answer. "(I remember it,)" he grumbled uneasily.

A shiver ran up Claus's neck. Something had happened while he was out, and he didn't like not knowing what. First the others went missing, then the Needle being there, and now Boney recalling something he shouldn't? Claus thought back to the day before, to Kumatora's plan for putting the Dragon back to sleep. She claimed not to know how to make new Needles, but what was he looking at right in front of him?

No, he had to focus. The others were missing. Until he sorted that out, everything else could wait. "How long's it been?"

"Woof woof! (I'm not sure, but I don't think it was very long.)"

Claus scratched his chin. He was a little sore, but he'd been in worse shape after a twenty-minute nap on a lumpy sofa. Boney was right. "They couldn't have gone far," he concluded. "But why would they leave at all?"

"Woof! (Maybe they didn't have a choice.)"

"Yeah . . ." Claus paled at the implication. "C'mon, boy. Let's get lookin'."

Boney stood up again and barked. "Woof! (You can count on me.)"

Claus led the way back toward the entrance. With any luck the others would be somewhere on the path and they could regroup. If not, then he was fresh out of ideas. He was the only one who could teleport, so if they weren't there then the only other place they could have ended up was the abyss below and he wasn't ready to face that possibility just yet.

". . . Claus . . ."

The boy looked to his dog. "Huh?"

Boney wore a confused expression. "(What?)"

"Did you say my name?"

"(No,)" Boney whined.

Claus tried to keep his cool, figuring that this would be a less than ideal time for a nervous breakdown. "Oh."

"You must be so exhausted . . ."

That definitely wasn't his dog. "Did'ja hear THAT?"

Boney looked every bit as spooked as his master. "Woof! (Yeah.)"

"Claus." The voice was louder. Closer. Try as they might though, neither of them could pinpoint which way it was coming from. The shadows dancing across the cavern walls weren't making it any easier. "Claus. Come to your brother."

Claus's hand snapped to his hip on instinct, reaching for the trusty pocket knife he no longer carried – not since his dad took it away. Just a "precaution" he'd said, in case Claus ever had an especially bad day. Not having the knife was supposed to make him safer, but without it he could tell his day was about to get very, very bad. "Crap . . ." he hissed under his breath.

Boney huddled back-to-back with his charge, crouched low with his ears folded down. Whatever was after Claus would have to deal with him first. "(Stay close,)" he growled.

"Claus." It was getting more insistent. "Claus, Claus, Claus, Claus, Claus, Claus, Claus, Claus, Claus, Claus, Claus . . ."

"Shut up!" His voice cracked when he shouted into the darkness. There was no hiding how rattled he was. Unarmed with only Boney to back him up, Claus's fight-or-flight instinct was screaming at him to do anything while his legs refused to listen.

Suddenly the light from the Needle winked out, drawing Claus's frantic attention. His blood turned to ice in his veins. Standing there between them and the Needle was the Commander, silent as the grave. His mouth was drawn into a rigid line. His shadow grew long in the Needle's light, falling over the boy and dog at the far end of the platform. Claus and the Commander both kept quiet, but they shared a moment of mutual recognition as time slowed to a standstill.

Boney sensed the shift in the air first. He was already moving when the Commander drew his sword with an elaborate flourish. Claus stood unmoving, gaping at his counterpart and unprepared for what was about to happen until Boney slammed into him, knocking him aside before the bolt of lightning could come crashing down onto the pair.

Not missing a beat, the Commander leapt in, swinging of his sword. Claus barely had enough time to thrown his hands up to block. That panicked response might have saved his life, but it wasn't without consequence: the blade sliced into his right forearm, cutting down to the bone.

Wailing, Claus recoiled in abject terror. His tear-filled eyes saw nothing but red, and he couldn't tell if he was blind from the pain or if that really was his blood drenching everything. It was both. Clutching the wounded arm to his chest left scarlet stains all over his fingers, his shirt, his shorts, and anything else he got close to.

The Commander reared back to finish the job. Before he could swing his blade a second time, though, Boney pounced on him with all his weight and wrestled for the sword in his hand.

Open sobbing, agonized screams, hyperventilating: Claus couldn't settle on which approach he would take from one moment to the next. It was mostly a mix of all three. His arm burned like it was on fire. There was so much blood. It wasn't his first time watching his life's essence drain away from a mangled limb, but it didn't get any easier with experience.

And then through the fog of pain and blood loss he heard a canine yelp. For an instant, Claus's mind cleared and he focused his every thought on the masked man. A dazzling burst of psychic energy split the air and slammed into the Commander, knocking him back and giving Boney the room he needed.

The Commander slowly turned to look at Claus. The attack had hit hard enough that his helmet was nearly torn in half, exposing his matted blonde hair. While his headgear was damaged beyond repair, the Commander himself didn't even look winded. On the contrary, he was smiling. Claus knew that smile too well. It was gentle. It was his brother's. "I'm h…a…p…p…y . . ." he said before raising his sword.

The rush was wearing off and pain surged up Claus's arm again. His head was swimming and his pulse was racing, but he knew that if he didn't move fast he was going to die. "Run," he choked out.

Boney was on board with that plan, but he kept himself between his master and their attacker. Claus crawled along on his uninjured arm until he could stagger to his feet. Fortunately for them both, the Commander merely leered at them, taking a far more casual approach to the fight than his first assault suggested. Boney was beyond grateful for every extra inch he and Claus could put between them and him as they scrambled down the path.

Hobbling along impotently was the best Claus could manage. The bleeding was getting worse, the pain made his knees buckle, and he was nearly blind from crying. Boney circled around him anxiously, keeping one eye on the Commander at all times but otherwise powerless to help.

Claus knew he wouldn't make it very far like this. His fingers were starting to go numb; his limbs were getting heavier. He was going into shock. No wonder their pursuer was in no rush. "Boney," he shuddered through chattering teeth and choked sobs. "You gotta f-f-find Lucas. Keep him safe. Understand?"

Boney was having none of it, trying to nudge Claus forward. "(We'll find him together,)" he whimpered.

Even with his vision blurred, Claus couldn't overlook the tremors in his hands. "Sorry," he hissed, "but I'm not going anywhere like this."

"Woof! (Then neither am I.)"

Claus had worried that Boney's loyalty would get the silly, stubborn dog killed one day. Well it wouldn't be on his account. "I just . . . need a minute."

Boney bristled as he got ready to fend off the Commander. "(I'll buy you two.)"

Desperation has a way of breeding ambitious plans. Having tried something similar the night before and failing utterly, Claus was not especially optimistic about his odds. Still, as he looked down he reminded himself that one in a million was better than none. His shirt was a horror show, soaked through to the skin in his own sticky blood. The rusty smell was so overpowering that he just about barfed.

Sucking in a breath through clenched teeth, Claus shut his eyes. He could do this. He HAD to do this. It was just like Lucas told him: he couldn't will himself to get better; he needed to believe it. Easier said than done with every nerve ending in his body crying out at once.

Boney stood his ground in front of his approaching enemy. The masked man may have worn Lucas's face, spoken with his voice, and even reeked of the same scent, but to Boney it made no difference. No one – NO ONE – was going to hurt his family.

The Commander raised his right arm and took aim – not at the dog he barely noticed, but at Claus. Boney charged in before he could fire though, bumping his arm enough to send the shot wide. That little maneuver finally earned Boney the Commander's attention.

Claus breathed out again as soon as the feeling started to return to his fingers. He was still a total mess, but at least the bleeding had stopped and the once-sharp pain had lost most of its edge. Maybe he could get the hang of support PSI after all. "Boney! Let's go!"

"Woof! (Coming!)" The dog scrambled around, ducking under a swinging sword and around an errant beam as he sprinted back to his master's side.

The more they ran, the more certain Claus was that this cave was not the same one they'd arrived in. The cavern walls took on ever odder angles and the path twisted and turned in ways he was sure they hadn't walked down before. There was no time to dwell on it though, as their enemy was still coming for them and there was only one way to go.

Claus's pace slowed when he heard something that had no earthly business being here: the sound of rushing water. He was almost ready to believe it was a hallucination until they came to a natural bridge. Even if he couldn't see a river flowing beneath them, the persistent noise was enough to make him believe it was there. Thinking nothing of it, Boney ran ahead, but Claus hesitated. It was the opportunity the Commander was waiting for.

A bolt of lightning arced down from the darkness, the force of the impact crashing through and shattering the fragile stone arch. Claus and Boney were cut off from one another, leaving the redhead to face his pursuer alone.

"Claus. Claus. Let's be friends, Claus. Let's be friends f…o…r…e…v…e…r . . ."

"Woof! (Jump!)"

As much as he trusted his dog, Claus knew he'd never make that jump in a million years. At best he'd drop into what he prayed was a real river somewhere down below. From there he'd either drown or get himself dashed on the rocks. Then again, falling into the Commander's hands wouldn't end any better. No, he needed a third option. "I can't," he said. "But I got an idea. Stand back."

"(What're you doing?)" Boney whimpered.

"I'm gonna try to teleport over to you. But I need a run-up."

They both knew the only way for the boy to get that much space was by going through the masked man. Boney shifted about on his paws anxiously, desperate for any other way across but seeing none. "(Okay,)" he agreed reluctantly.

Swallowing his fear, Claus turned back to face the Commander. The path was a narrow one, but with the only other option being a grisly end he would have to risk it. The boy steeled his resolve, bent his knees, and recited a silent prayer before he took off sprinting.

Claus might have ducked a beam or evaded a swinging sword; he might have even been able to anticipate the strike of lightning, but the Commander didn't attack with any of that. Even after the blow landed, Claus had no idea what he'd been hit by. It sure did hurt though, not merely stopping his advance but throwing him backwards hard enough that he was sent hurtling down into the open chasm where the bridge had stood.

The whole world dropped away, leaving the boy's mind reeling in the second or so he had to process everything before he punched through the surface of the water. His lungs clenched shut as soon as the cold hit him, a response that had no doubt saved his life twice already. Except this time he didn't feel the tug of the rapids or hear the river's deafening roar. It took his body a good twenty or thirty seconds to recognize that it was lying on solid ground, and even longer for his brain to accept it.

When at last he regained his senses, Claus opened his eyes onto a sea of smoke and starlight. The air was heavy with the scent of recent rainfall; the soft earth beneath him was still saturated. He would have laid there a while longer, contemplating exactly what just happened, but his throbbing arm wouldn't allow it.

Claus forced himself to sit up, strangling a coughing fit in his throat. It was dark out, save for the campfire burning a few yards away, all aglow with a warm, inviting light. That explained the smoke. But what explained the fire? As far as he could see, he was all alone in this small clearing. At least he'd lost the Commander for the moment.

Boney hadn't, though. Claus's heart raced as he realized that he needed to get back to his dog. How though? He didn't know where he'd been. Teleportation was tricky enough even if he knew exactly where he was headed.

As for where he was now, that was another matter. He recognized this place; it was in the Sunshine Forest. He'd walk along the riverbank here at times, skipping stones or catching frogs. It looked so different in the dark. The last time he'd been there at night—

Claus looked at the fire again. Mixed in with its acrid, smoky smell there was another aroma, something delicate and floral; sweet, even. Innit Tea, its soothing flavor still fresh on his tongue even four years later. The smoke in the sky was too thick to be from one little campfire; the whole forest was probably still smoldering.

He'd heard of living in the past, but this was ridiculous.

". . . Claus . . ."

Reacting instantly, Claus lunged forward and grabbed a burning stick out of the fire with his left hand. He wasn't going to be caught unarmed a second time.

The light from Claus's makeshift torch fell onto a figure looming out of the darkness: the Commander. "Claus," he repeated. "What's wrong, Claus? How come you're crying?"

Backpedaling, Claus swung his stick to ward off the masked man. He wanted to look for a way out, but was too afraid to take his eyes off his adversary.

The other boy held back, his finger twitching on the hilt of his weapon. "Are you sad?" he asked. The fact that he did so with Lucas's voice made it so much worse. "Are you scared?" He took a step forward. "Why not call your mommy, Claus? Say, 'Mommy! Daddy! I'm so frightened! I think I'm gonna wet my pants!'"

Claus gritted his teeth. That childish mockery rang far too familiar for his liking.

The Commander took another modest step. "Try it. She won't answer."

Claus's thoughts narrowed to a razor-fine point that exploded in a burst of psychic energy: PK Love Ω. Pain be damned; prudence be damned; he couldn't afford to hold back. For all its brilliance, its unbridled power, its practiced aim, the attack glanced off the Commander like rain slipping off shingles. It couldn't even wipe the smile off his face.

Electricity arced between the masked man's fingertips, aching to be put to use. "I feel g…o…o…d . . ."

Claus saw the attack coming, for what little good that did him. There wasn't time to run. He couldn't dodge. He didn't even know that he could survive. That realization burned at his throat like loose bile, because with it came a thought he'd worked so hard to bury: maybe he didn't want to survive. He wouldn't have to lie anymore, if he simply dropped his guard.

His mom, his dad, his brother, his grandpa, even his dog; they all loved his lies. They were proud of him. They trusted him because it was such an easy lie to believe: that he didn't want to die. Why should he? He was happy. He was taking his medicine. All was right with the world, so things should be right with him too. The lie was so convincing he even believed it himself, until he was all alone and that grim impulse crept back into his stream of consciousness.

For the first time he could let go blamelessly, murdered by some imposter instead of by his own hand; the ultimate lie to cap off all the others. For reasons he didn't dare dredge up, he was tempted.

But just as he'd done on so many other days, Claus refused to die.

If there was ever any question in his mind whether love hurt, it was erased when the attack landed. It was a wonder his back didn't snap like a twig when the full force of the Commander's PK Love Ω crashed through him. Rippling waves of raw psychic power interlaced with on one another, ripe with trauma born of lost love. Even Claus could appreciate the poetry of turning suffering itself into a weapon. He knew the bite of it all too well when it sunk into his mind, heart and body all at once. He knew its every curve and contour, for it was the weapon he himself had forged.

He hit the ground hard, bouncing once before he rolled to a stop. He was still alive, but barely. The Commander, relentless as ever, was already bracing for his next attack from what Claus could see though one eye peering over his chest.

Suddenly, a tall figure stepped in front of Claus. Even lying prone and wracked with pain, he would recognize that silhouette anywhere. "Dad?" he gasped.

A hand came down gently on Claus's chest to keep him still. Only then did he realize why he'd stopped rolling: because he'd been caught by someone who was now looking down at him with a tender smile bordered by chestnut locks. "Shhh," Hinawa hushed him, brushing the hair out of his eyes with her free hand. "It'll be okay, sweetheart."

Claus's chest tightened. "M-mom," he choked. ". . . I messed up."

"I know," she whispered, wiping a tear off her son's cheek with her thumb.

"I lost Lucas and Boney, and I . . ." Claus swallowed and closed his eyes to try and tamp his swelling panic back down. "I'm not okay, mom. Nothing's okay."

Silent and stalwart, Flint dug his heels into the dirt and gritted his teeth. He may have been unarmed, but he was prepared to take whatever the masked man could dish out. Better him than his boy. The Commander sneered disdainfully before raising his cannon and firing a beam at the man.

Claus went to sit up again when he saw his dad take the hit, but Hinawa's hand kept him where he belonged. "I know you're scared," she told him, drawing Claus's eyes back to her, "but whatever happens, I want you to remember that we are so, so proud of you. Nothing will ever change that."

"But why?" he whimpered. "I'm so screwed up. And after everything I did—"

"Because you're our son," she cut him off, "and you are amazing, whether you realize it or not." She could feel the tension in his chest; see the fear in his eyes. That wouldn't do at all. Hinawa leaned forward and planted a kiss on Claus's forehead to help him relax. "We've known you since before you were born, and with every day that passes we love you even more."

Flint took another hit, grunting in pain but not giving an inch.

"Do you remember what I told you in the cave?" Hinawa asked.

"At . . . at the Needle?"

"Uh-huh."

"You wanted me to stop fighting."

"That's right," she cooed. "But that was back then. Now, I want you to fight with all your heart."

"I tried, but I . . . I can't do it," Claus objected. "I'm not strong enough."

"You can, Claus. You're good enough just the way you are. You always have been."

There was something about his mother's assurances that made them eminently easy to believe. Maybe it was in how she spoke; maybe it was that last childish part of him that still hung on his mother's every word; but no matter how outlandish or impossible something seemed, when his mother told him it was so, he could not doubt it. ". . . Okay."

"Good." She smiled and withdrew her hand. "Now stand up and show 'em what you're made of."

Bracing against the ground, Claus strained to sit up; no easy task for someone who only a minute earlier had been at death's door. His muscles begged for mercy, and he was ready to let them win until he felt his mother's fingertips in the center of his back, gently guiding him. He sucked in a breath and tried again, this time making it up onto his feet before his legs threatened to give out if he let them.

Flint took yet another hit that was meant for his family, staggering backwards and falling to one knee. No more than a grunt crossed his lips as he endured blow after blow with a quiet resolve born of too much loss.

Claus wiped his eyes on the back of his hand and took a heavy step forward. That was when he was tackled from the side. Or so it seemed until he felt a big, sloppy kiss on his cheek.

"Hey, dork."

Despite the rough greeting and the throbbing pain throughout his body, Claus's whole face lit up. "Hey yourself, loser," he croaked, returning the hug.

Fuel squeezed tighter. He wasn't holding back. "So what's the big idea, huh?" he asked. "When were you gonna tell me I was dating a zombie?"

Claus's mind swam with questions, but only one mattered to him. "We're dating?"

"Duh. I said yes last night, didn't I?"

That got Claus's heart thumping. "I guess so."

"But you gotta finish up here, first," Fuel reminded him with a poke to the chest. "Go kick his butt."

"You got it."

"And don't you DARE die on me again," Fuel scolded him. "If you do, I'll drag you back from hell myself."

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart."

A hand slapped down on Claus's shoulder, making the boy turn to see his grandfather standing beside him with Boney in tow. "Atta boy," Alec chuckled.

"Woof! (I knew we'd find you,)" Boney preened proudly. "Woof woof! (My nose never fails.)"

"Fuel, you jerk!" Nichol panted as he and his sister jogged up behind the brunette. "What part of 'Don't hurt him' did you not understand?"

"He's still standin', ain't he?" Fuel countered.

"Good to see you guys too," Claus laughed.

Richie shook her head. "You really stepped in it this time, huh? Good thing we're here to bail you out."

"Where are we, anyway?" Alec wondered.

"We are where we are," Reggie said from beside Alec. "That's good enough for Reggie."

Salsa and Samba both nodded along in silent agreement.

With every friendly face, Claus's smile grew wider, his body lighter, his spirit brighter. He could swear that he felt their hearts beating in time with his own.

Lucas, Duster and Kumatora were still missing though, and his dad was standing in the line of fire. He might not have been as strong as his twin, but Claus had something more than just strength: he had the people he cared about counting on him.

The Commander, spying the gathering crowd behind Flint, struck from every direction at once. Although Claus couldn't grasp the true form of the masked man's attack, he could still counter it, knitting a web of swirling, swelling, unbreakable psychic threads around them all. Love was more than just a weapon, and so was the technique that bore its name.

Flint fell backwards into his wife's waiting arms. His body stung something fierce, but he still managed to tip his hat to his son's smiling face.

There was a dull thud as the Commander's sword fell from his grasp. His eyes were smoldering pieces of coal. "Friends . . ." he growled, his voice as deep and husky as Lucas could manage. A heavy clatter signaled the cannon dropping from his right arm. "More friends." With his hands unencumbered, the Commander reached up and pulled the battered remains of his helmet from his head and tossed it aside. "I have so much love to give them."

The signs were all there: the electrical hum in the atmosphere, the pressure building in Claus's temples, the faint sparkle in the Commander's manic eyes. He was about to attack. Brimming with new self-assurance, Claus dug deep, cleared his head, and bent his every thought to safeguarding his loved ones.

A burst of psychic power shook Claus's unbowed defenses. A few seconds later there was another, stronger than the first. And a third, stronger still. The blows came faster and fiercer, relentlessly lashing against the radiant hexagonal shell. The Commander could see in the shape and shuddering of Claus's barrier the exact moment when the boy realized that this assault would never end.

Claus held firm, swallowing his fears to focus only on the moment. He knew that battles between psychics would always be decided by the one with the greater resolve, so he couldn't afford even a moment's doubt. To him, it was a contest of wills. To everyone else, it played out like a precursor to the apocalypse. The unrestrained psychic power that couldn't get through Claus's defenses veered off in all directions, tearing whole trees from the ground and hurtling boulders like pebbles. The air itself bent and warped under the psychic stresses, until the veneer of reality began to fray at the edges. Where once there was a forest, the smell of smoke, the light of the moon and stars, there seeped in an inky emptiness.

It was only a matter of time before Claus slipped, and then it would all be over. He didn't have the Commander's single-minded obsession, and the longer this battle dragged on the worse the devastation that might be wrought. But there was another facet to psychic combat that Claus had come to know: that a fighter's techniques reveal his state of mind. The Commander might have been able to read him, but that was a two-way road. It was small, nearly invisible from the eye of the storm, but with every PK Love, Claus heard a whisper of doubt. The more the unmasked man lashed out, the flimsier his defenses became. He was exposed and didn't even know it.

Claus pushed forward. It was like wading through tar in a tornado, but he couldn't stop now. Infuriated by such defiance, the Commander used the boiling of his blood to fuel his increasingly reckless strikes. With that anger, his sanity started to slip and the walls around his mind fell.

Almost before either of them realized it, Claus was standing right in front of the Commander. He could make out the sweat on the frail boy's sallow skin, the bags under his eyes, the greasy curls of his hair. Twitching muscles. Labored breathing. Most of all, Claus recognized the exhaustion in his broken expression.

In one swift move, Claus grabbed the unmasked man by the shoulder and yanked him into an embrace. He put his lips to the other's ear and whispered, "I'm sorry."

The Commander froze, more confused than convinced but not struggling. That sliver of time was all Claus needed.

"I'm sorry I . . . _we_ . . . weren't strong enough." Claus felt the Commander's back twitch under his grip. "I shouldn't have left you here all alone." He felt a puff of warm breath on the side of his face. "And I'm sorry I never said that . . . that I love you."

Claus held on even tighter as the unmasked man feebly tried to push him away. "I love you," he repeated. "We all do. Me. Lucas. Mom and dad. Everyone."

At last, the Commander sank to his knees in defeat. Claus went with him. "It h…u…r…t…s . . ."

"I know."

"It hu-urts."

"It'll be okay."

"It hurts so bad. I . . ."

Claus felt two arms wrap around him. It wasn't the Commander anymore, nor was it Lucas, or even some horrible Chimera. It himself, just as he looked on that day four years earlier. The tears soaking through his shirt collar had been a long time coming.

". . . I miss her," the boy choked out between sobs. "I m-miss mom . . ."

Claus patted him on the back. "Me too."

Most people go their whole lives without getting a single do-over. Claus was lucky enough to be on his second one. The words he'd wished he'd heard; the tears he wished he'd shed; maybe it was childish, dwelling on the past as he was. At that moment, he was perfectly happy to never grow up.

Like a dream slipping through the grasp of a waking mind, Claus found his arms empty too soon for his liking. The boy was gone, yet the warmth of his touch never left Claus's skin.

"Sweetheart?" his mother asked from behind him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "You?"

"We're all doing fine," she told him. "Your father's a bit worse for wear, but he'll tough it out. He always does."

Looking down at his blood-soaked shirt, Claus couldn't help but chuckle. "That makes two of us."

* * *

[It's hard to believe I posted the first chapter of this story one year ago. Look how far we've come. Whether you've been in it for the long haul or you're just coming along now, thank you for reading. The end is almost upon us, but before it comes I am going to have one question for you. I can't wait to hear what you'll say.

with love,

ian]


	53. To the End of Everything

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Eyes fluttered open, peering out into endless darkness from beneath a lonely column of azure light. Even if he couldn't see it, Lucas knew the Dragon could see him. The relentless beating of its heart sounded more and more like the Cross Road bell. Or perhaps it was the other way around.

"Hey, um . . ." Words failed him. Where to begin? Was the Dragon a stranger or an old friend? He couldn't tell anymore. "Do you like stories?"

The Dragon didn't answer; Lucas hadn't really expected it to. He was already slipping his backpack down into his hand. It was unwieldy, weighed down by Dr. Andonuts's supplies and whatever he'd scrounged from around the house, but one of those things was exactly what he needed. Reaching inside, he pulled out the old book and let the rest drop.

"My mom used to read this to me when I was little," he explained wistfully. "It was my favorite."

His fingers brushed over the surface of the children's book in his hands, its cover harkening back to another lifetime. He slid a digit into the pages, hearing the creak of a spine that had gone unbent for too long. It smelled musty from its years tucked into a bookshelf, but that only masked an older scent, something that Lucas couldn't put a name to which conjured long-misplaced memories. He and Claus curled up in their mother's lap, the rocking chair in front of the fireplace, her voice meandering through the words on the page as one might through a well-worn trail. Claus always fell asleep first. The black-and-white pictures adorning each page were etched so deep into Lucas's mind that not one stroke surprised him, even so long after he'd last set eyes on them.

Lucas sat down beside his bag with his legs crisscrossed and the tome resting in his lap. Dim though it was, the light streaming down from above was enough to read by. He was no Magypsy. He didn't know the first thing about making Needles, but he knew himself. He knew the heart he and the Dragon shared. If this story would ease him to sleep, then perhaps it would work on the Dragon, too.

"Long, long ago," Lucas began, reading the words below a picture of three men on a cobblestone road, "in a land far, far away, there lived three travelers."

The ever-present heartbeat relaxed under the caress of Lucas's words. It grew quieter, as if not wanting to interrupt.

"They had journeyed far across the land, from sea to sea and mountain to valley." Lucas turned the page, not that he needed to in order to recite the next line. "After one especially long day of walking, they were all exhausted. Their feet were sore, their clothes stank, and their bellies were empty."

Lucas could have sworn there was something in the darkness which hadn't been there before, taking shape just beyond his sight. The faintly reflected light caught traces of grass, trees, rolling hills and rough-hewn paths. A gentle breeze carrying the rustic scent of autumn all but confirmed his suspicions. Instead of alarming him though, it only made it easier to sink into the page.

"Happening upon a village, they approached the first house they saw in hope of finding food or a place to stay for the evening. They had come to rely on the good people of hamlets like this one, and were always sure to repay any kindness they received."

The heartbeat continued to fade, hiding behind chirping birds, bleating sheep, and buzzing bees. The unseen hills around him were now dotted with quaint little thatched-roof cottages, complete with smoking chimneys, tiny gardens, and picket fences.

"The villager did not trust the travelers, however, and said that he was poor and had no food to share. They thanked him all the same, and continued on to the next house. The second villager too claimed to have not even a crumb to spare. And so they went from door to door, only to be sent away each time."

Turning the page was becoming a little ritual of its own. It was a chance to catch his breath and let the words sink in. The quick, clipped sentences were there just long enough to soak in the pictures they accompanied when read aloud at a languid pace befitting a bedtime story.

"The travelers soon grew worried. Not a single person in the whole village had offered them as much as a crust of bread. The first of them feared that the poor villagers would suffer terribly from hunger. The second, however, had noticed their fat bellies and chubby cheeks, and told the other two that they would find no charity among such selfish people. The third and cleverest of the travelers was neither afraid nor angry though, for he had a plan."

Safe. He felt _safe_. It was a weird thought to have in the most alien place he'd ever been, but it was true all the same. Had he been curled up in a blanket in front of the hearth, hot cocoa in hand, he couldn't have felt any more secure.

"He sent the first traveler down to the river to fill their big, black cooking pot with water. He told the second to build a large fire in the center of the town square where everyone could see. He himself went off in search of a single large stone."

Lucas could swear the imaginary town was growing livelier by the second. The scent became richer, more layered – a fine fragrance of damp cobblestones and mud, with undertones of kindling, cattle and assorted hints of humanity. There were whispered conversations, a babbling brook, and barking dogs to fill out the picture.

Except that the barking was getting more insistent.

"Woof! (Lucas!)"

With one bark, the spell was broken. The hills, the village, and all the associated sounds and smells were snuffed out like a candle, leaving only the impregnable darkness, a pillar of blue light, and Boney.

Lucas caught the charging dog in his arms, dropping the book. "Boney!" he called out. "Boy am I glad to see you!"

Boney was a flurry of licks and tail wags, practically mauling his master with affection. Had it been a human hug, Lucas would have been gasping for air.

"I think the feeling's mutual."

At the sound of his brother's voice, Lucas gave a relieved smile that quickly evaporated into wide-eyed horror. He blanched upon seeing Claus's bloodstained shirt as the redhead sauntered over, leaning on Fuel's shoulder for support.

"Claus!" Lucas shouted, leaping up like he was shot from a catapult.

"Ah!" Claus shrank back before Lucas had even touched him.

Fuel braced himself. "Take it easy," he murmured. "I gotcha."

Lucas squirmed in place, unsure what to do with his hands as he frantically looked over the nasty cut on his brother's arm. "What happened?!"

"I just had a little accident is all."

"He was doing something dumb," said Fuel. "No surprise there."

"It looks worse than it feels," Claus fired back, more at Fuel than his frantic twin.

"It looks terrible!" Lucas pointed out.

Claus smiled sheepishly. "Well it doesn't feel all that great, either," he confessed.

"He was bein' a big baby this whole time. Practically needed me to hold his hand for him."

"I wasn't THAT bad. Besides, you weren't complaining."

Fuel looked away innocently. "You're just lucky I came along when I did."

"Thanks for watching out for him." Lucas waved his brother closer. "Let me see it."

Claus obliged even as he smiled at Fuel. "I guess I am."

Lucas gingerly held onto Claus's wrist to get a better look at the cut. Hoping to ease his tension, and perhaps satisfy his curiosity, he asked, "How'd you get here anyway, Fuel?"

"Good question. I just sorta woke up here."

"A lot of people did," Claus added.

"Is anyone else hurt?"

"Dad's a little banged up. Mom's taking care of him though. They said they'd catch up when they could."

Unsure if he should be relieved or even more stressed, Lucas refocused on the wound. To his surprise, it was already showing signs of healing. "It's not bleeding anymore," he noted. "Did you do that?"

"Yeah," Claus chuckled proudly. "I'm sure you could've done way better."

Lucas was genuinely impressed. "You did great, actually. Especially for working on yourself."

"Thanks," Claus beamed, "but I was hoping an expert could handle the rest."

"Hold still." Lucas supported his brother's arm with one hand and held the other a few inches over the cut, too nervous to touch it but covering the grisly injury even so.

"Should I, um, do anything?" Fuel's face had turned ever so slightly green.

"Actually, yeah," said Lucas. "Could you keep an eye on Boney? I don't want him wandering around on his own."

The dog was safely sniffing around the edge of the circle of light, but Fuel was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. "Sure!" he agreed before checking on Claus one more time. "You gonna be okay?"

"Don't worry. I'm in good hands."

Fuel nodded and stepped away. "Alright."

As the brunette walked over to Boney, Claus turned to his brother and whispered, "So what's with the book?"

"I was trying something." A green light pulsed under Lucas's hand. "Remember Kumatora's plan?"

"You were trying to put the Dragon back to sleep?"

"Mm-hmm." Claus didn't say a thing. Judging from his set jaw and furrowed brow, though, Lucas could tell he wasn't happy. "What?"

"This plan stinks."

"But I thought—"

"I know." Even Claus had a hard time believing the words coming out of his mouth. It had been an enlightening day for him, though. "I guess you could say I've had a change of heart or somethin'."

Doubts swam around Lucas's mind. After coming so far, Claus wanted him to turn back now? "But why?"

"Because sealing the Dragon away won't fix anything."

Lucas's grip faltered. "It might."

"Things would only go back to how they used to be," Claus explained.

"Exactly."

Claus didn't respond for a few seconds. He could understand where his brother was coming from, but the way Lucas said it was a splash of cold water all the same. "Is that really what you want? To take one giant step backwards?"

"What I want is to set everyone free, Claus."

"What're you talking about?"

Lucas kept his eyes down, pretending to focus on healing his brother's arm. He could feel Claus's gaze boring into him from above. "I messed up. Bad." The admission hung in his throat like a pendulum in an old clock. "When I passed my heart on to the Dragon I thought I was saving the world, but . . . I guess my heart was broken, 'cause instead the Dragon trapped everyone here, took away their memories, and made them live out _my_ version of happiness."

"Lucas . . ."

"That's why I gotta do this. I need to do better."

"Look at me, Lucas." Reluctantly, he did. He'd expected disappointment to be written all over his brother's face, but there was none to be had; only a deep exhaustion that even the day's harrowing events couldn't explain. "You can't spend your whole life regretting one stupid mistake. Trust me; I'd know."

"But—"

"No buts. No more feeling guilty." Claus reached up and laid his hand atop his brother's. "Whatever you did, I forgive you."

Lucas looked down again and smiled. He'd finished healing Claus, but tarried there just a moment longer. "So then what do we do?"

"We go forward. I don't know what'll happen, or if I'll even get to see it, but I'm okay with that. That's how life's supposed to be." He gave a halfhearted chuckle that Lucas saw straight past. "Sure, it's a little scary, but it's exciting, too. I want to _live_ , Lucas. Really live."

"Me too," the blonde agreed. "That just leaves the Dragon . . ."

"We could try making it our new friend," Claus suggested as a joke.

It was enough to get a giggle from his brother. "Way ahead of you. I'm not so sure it worked."

A commanding voice broke through the darkness at their backs. "So try something else."

Lucas spun, his eyes shining. "Kumatora!"

The princess strolled out of the darkness and into the column of light with Duster at her side. "Take it from me, kid: you're gonna go down a lot of dead-ends before you find the right path. But as long as you keep on lookin', you'll find your way sooner or later."

"Sorry we're late." Duster smiled at the three boys and Boney, relieved to see them (mostly) unharmed. "I'd say we had a rough time getting here, but it looks like we weren't the only ones. What happened, Claus?"

The boy gave him a toothy grin. "Almost died again. No big deal."

"Just another day in the life, huh?" Kumatora asked with a smirk. "Y'know, I'm startin' to think the helmet was a good idea."

Claus laughed. She wasn't wrong, but had overlooked one key issue. "The hat hair is NOT worth it."

Even if he wasn't on board with joking about his brother's brushes with death, Lucas had to smile all the same at seeing everyone back together.

"Now then," said Kumatora, "whaddya say we finish up and go home?"

"I'd love to. Got any idea how to do that?" Claus asked.

"It sounds like the plan we had is off the table," Duster surmised, "so I guess we're back to square one."

"Not exactly." It was Lucas, looking surprisingly pleased with himself. "It's hard to explain but . . . I don't think the Dragon's our enemy."

Fuel scoffed upon rejoining the conversation. "Try telling that to the guy who almost killed us."

"That wasn't the Dragon," said Claus. "I'm with Lucas; if the Dragon wanted to hurt us we'd know it."

"Well then, what DOES it want?" Kumatora's question was tinged with equal parts impatience and curiosity.

Lucas spread his arms out. "It wants _this_. It wants the world it made. It's happy here."

"So let's change its mind," Duster suggested. "Talk to it. If it's got your heart it'll feel the same as you."

Lucas's face fell. "But that's the problem: _I'm_ happy here too. I know this has to end, but I don't want it to."

The averted eyes all around him said what their mouths could not: he wasn't alone in that. A life without loss in it was a hard thing to give up, especially when there was so much joy in its place.

"I know the feeling." Claus alone spoke up. "It's hard to let go of what you've got. Can I admit something?"

Fuel nodded. "Of course."

"This might sound kinda messed up – and it is – but back when I was Porky's robot, I just wanted things to stay the way they were. I'd have killed to keep on being the Commander." Claus locked eyes with Lucas, and his expression softened. "And then I remembered who I was. I've never been happier in my life. Or sadder." He paused to reflect on that moment and all of the feelings that came with it. He hadn't known how to process it all back then; he still wasn't sure he could. "So trust me when I tell you that the best happiness comes from being free. Isn't that what you want, Lucas? For everyone to go free?"

There was only one answer. "Yeah."

"Well then, that includes the Dragon," Claus concluded. "We gotta set it free."

"But how?" asked Lucas. "We already pulled the Needles. We woke it up. What's left? What's keeping it here?"

No one said a thing, but Lucas felt their eyes settle on him. The truth was staring him in the face all along, from the very thing he'd passed on. His heart, swollen with a concoction of love and fear, had made the world into what it was, and made it impossible for the Dragon to let go.

Kumatora slung an arm over Lucas's shoulder. "Don't worry about it, kid. You've had a change of heart, so the Dragon can do the same."

"If anyone can convince it, it'd be you," Claus assured his twin. "Though I gotta admit, yanking a Needle out of the ground sure was a lot simpler."

"No kidding," Lucas laughed nervously. "What should I do?"

"Just talk to it," Duster suggested. "I'd wager it's listening."

"Probably has been since we got here," said Kumatora.

"So it's, like, watching us?" Fuel asked.

"Woof. (Spooky.)"

Claus gave Lucas a gentle nudge. "Go on. You can do it."

Lucas nodded. Once again, the world rested on his shoulders. He could only pray he'd do better this time around.

Looking up into the void, he raised his voice and spoke. "H-hello? Mister, er, Miss . . . Misses?" His eyes darted to his companions quickly, but their shrugs proved their own ignorance of how to start. "Um, Dragon, if that's okay. Or do you prefer 'Dark Dragon'? The full name makes a little more sense looking around at all the, uh, darkness you've got here. It's . . . nice?"

"Smooth," Kumatora groaned.

Lucas deflated a bit at that, but pushed on ahead. "We need you to stop what you're doing. This world you've made is great, and I'm so, so glad you brought my mom and brother back, but we can't live like this. People, I mean."

"Yeah!" Claus cut in, stepping up to his brother's side. "We need to be free! Free to make mistakes, to get hurt, to lose the things we love; but also free to love in the first place, to grow and learn and figure out who we really are!"

A smile crept across Lucas's face. His brother's enthusiasm was infectious. "Happiness means something different to everybody. That's why you can't just make someone happy; they have to find it for themselves. We all deserve the chance to do that."

"And so do you! You don't have to stay here. You don't need to listen to the first person who wakes you up. There's a whole universe out there. Go out and live in it!"

Both boys fell silent, hoping for any sort of response from the darkness. It didn't seem to be coming.

"So . . . now what?" asked Claus.

Lucas squared his shoulders and clenched his fists. "Hey!" The vast expanse beyond their small circle of light consumed the word and any trace of its echo. "We pulled the Needles – me and Claus. That means you're supposed to listen to us. So listen!" Unaccustomed to such an outburst, Lucas was practically shaking with each word. "We don't want you to change the world, or save it, or destroy it, or any of that stuff. We just want you to put it back to the way it's meant to be."

Impressed with his brother's fervor, Claus could only stand back and watch. Lucas was so passionate; he'd changed a lot from the coddled boy of his youth. But at the same time, that tenderness never left him.

"I know it's a lot to ask," Lucas continued, "but you're the only one who can do it. If you don't have the power, then say so. If you want something, just tell us. And if you're scared then . . . then that's okay." His voice wavered slightly. Part of him wanted to stop, but he knew it was too late to hold back now. "It's okay to be scared. I'm scared too! Life won't always turn out like you hope. You can end up losing things, and you either learn to go on without them, or . . . or you let them destroy you." He shut his eyes and swallowed, thinking of his dad and brother. "The people you love – the ones you welcome into your heart – they become part of it, part of YOU. And when someone you care about goes away, it leaves a hole where they were. A dark, aching hole in your heart that feels like it'll never heal. But that hole isn't the person you loved." It had taken Lucas a long time to appreciate that. For years, the holes in his heart were all he had left of his family. "It's okay to let go of that pain. It'll get better someday, and when it does you'll realize that once you've welcomed someone in, they never really leave. They're with you forever."

The space went quiet again, save for the constant thrum of the Dragon's heartbeat. Lucas hung his head and held his breath, praying he'd been heard.

All he received was his brother's hand on his shoulder. "Lucas?" The blonde didn't answer. "Look."

He finally did, and what he saw nearly bowled him over. In the center of the column of light, piercing the featureless ground, was the eighth and final Needle. While it resembled the others, it lacked their familiar golden glow. The normally ethereal ornamentation was wrought of iron instead, its icy exterior looking grim in the blue light.

Claus sighed. "I'll never get used to this place."

"You and me both," Duster grunted.

"Is it cool if I just pretend this is a dream?" Fuel wondered.

Rubbing her sore neck, Kumatora was willing to go along with anything by that point. "Whatever floats yer boat, kid."

After staring for a long moment, Lucas finally swallowed his surprise. "What were you were saying about Needles being simpler, Claus?"

Smirking, the redhead said, "I'll take what I can get."

"Do you want to or should I?"

"The honor's all yours. Just don't mess it up." At that, Claus reached up and tousled his brother's hair.

Lucas batted the hand away with a chuckle. That little bit of relief was exactly what he needed; his pulse had started racing with anticipation since spotting the Needle. "Looks like this is it, then," he said. "Is everybody ready?"

Boney flopped on his stomach with a tired whine. "(Wake me when it's over.)"

Reaching down to stroke his dog's head, Claus nodded. "Whenever you are, Lucas."

Duster, Kumatora, and Fuel all assented in turn, taking just long enough for Lucas to psych himself up. "Alright," he said. "Here goes nothing."

What should have been the easiest thing in the world was anything but. Lucas could feel something buzzing in the back of his mind even before he reached out, but once he did it was practically shrieking. The warning came too late, though. He scarcely managed to graze the Needle with the tip of one finger before he sprang back, yanking his hand away like he'd grabbed a live wire.

"Lucas!" Claus caught his stricken brother from behind.

Lucas tried to steady himself as everyone gathered around. He stared at his hand with wide, unfocused eyes. Despite the barrage of questions being fired his way, he couldn't make any of it out. After trying and failing to mouth something coherent for over half a minute, the best he could manage was a soft, "Fine. I'm fine. I'm . . . fine."

"Here, sit down," Kumatora offered.

"No, I'm good." Shaking his head, Lucas was starting to regain his senses – at least well enough to actually notice the people surrounding him.

Fuel's concern was scrawled all over his face. "Are you hurt?"

"No," Lucas muttered. He wasn't. The truth was actually much more embarrassing. He'd had what he could only call a panic attack. The term hardly did justice to what felt like having his heart torn from his chest.

The merest touch of the Needle had bombarded him with thoughts of his mother's death, Claus's disappearance, losing his father to silence and his grandfather to infirmity. This Needle was nothing like the others; it was seething with familiar emotions. It was a Needle of own making, one he'd thrust into his heart and passed on to the Dragon.

"It's okay," Lucas lied. "I'm good now." His mouth was dry and his tongue felt heavy, but he could stand under his own power again.

"Woof! (You don't sound good,)" Boney remarked.

"Maybe take a minute," said Kumatora. "Clear your head."

"Yeah, settle down," Claus insisted. "Let me have a crack at it."

"Don't!" Lucas caught his twin by the arm. The two locked eyes before he continued. "I can do this."

"You looked like you were having a heart attack from just touching the thing. No way am I letting you do that again."

"I have to, Claus." Lucas tightened his grip, pleading for his brother's understanding. "It's my responsibility."

"Bull crap."

"It is! It's my fault that everything turned out like this. I've got to be the one to fix it."

"You can't carry the world all by yourself, Lucas. Let someone else take a little responsibility once in a while."

"You don't get it," Lucas chided him. "This one's not like all the rest." He paused to ask himself whether he really wanted to explain further. Judging from the expression on Claus's face, doing so was the only way to dissuade him. "It's not a Magypsy's Needle. It's . . . I think it's mine."

Duster glanced over to the Needle, then back at Lucas. "How do you know?" he asked.

"Just a feeling I got," Lucas explained feebly, "when I touched it."

Claus narrowed his eyes at his brother. "It's yours?"

"Yeah."

A long, ponderous silence passed between them as they searched one another's eyes. It was Claus who ultimately spoke next. "So what happens to you when it's pulled?"

Lucas withered under the look his brother was shooting him. Unlike Claus, he'd been there to see the aftermath of every pulled Needle. He'd seen the Magypsies fade out of existence one after the next; he'd heard their parting words, their hopes and regrets alike. As a way to go, it seemed peaceful enough. That was sure to come as cold comfort to Claus. "I imagine the same that'll happen to you without the Dragon." Lucas couldn't stand to look his brother head-on. "We'll have to wait and see."

"Lucas, you made me promise we'd turn around and forget all about this if it looked like anyone might get hurt," Claus reminded him.

"You've got a chance to make up for your mistakes, Claus," said Lucas. "Let me make up for mine."

Claus groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. Why did his little brother have to be so damn stubborn? "Together," he finally caved. "We do this together or not at all."

"But—"

"I'm not going to leave you all alone again, Lucas. Let me help."

Lucas knew better than to get in Claus's way once he set his mind to something. "You're sure?"

"Of course. I told you I'd always have your back, didn't I?"

A faint smile grew on Lucas's lips. "Uh-huh. To the end of everything."

Claus hated getting all mushy – even more so with other people watching – but he'd swallow his pride this time. "Hey," he whispered. "C'mere." He wrapped his arms around his brother and squeezed like it was his last chance.

"Not so tight . . ."

"Wimp."

Both boys laughed. It helped hide the dew around their eyes.

In time, Claus backed away, but not before giving Lucas one more pat on the shoulder. "See you on the other side?"

"You got it," Lucas croaked.

They both took deep breaths and turned toward the Needle once again. Unlike the first time, they approached far more cautiously. Even at a distance they started to feel ill, but they pressed on with shaking hands and churning stomachs.

Lucas was the first to set a finger on the iron rod, and despite being more prepared this time the color still drained from his face. He did not pull back though, gritting his teeth as he felt his mind swimming through a wide-awake nightmare. Claus joined him a moment later, and as bad as it was for Lucas, it hit him even harder, forcing him back.

A strange thing happened in that instant where Claus had touched the Needle, though. The fears swirling about in Lucas's mind were no longer just his own. There'd been a palpable dread surrounding his fate that hadn't been there before.

The twins exchanged knowing looks. Without saying a word, they both understood. Steeling his nerves, Claus advanced again. As his hand reconnected with the Needle, his throat seized shut. It wasn't just his demons he had to contend with, but his brother's as well.

Kumatora cheered them on. "Keep it up! You've got this!"

"Yeah!" Duster joined in. "We're with you the whole way!"

"Woof woof!"

Some unseen weight shifted in the Needle, like it was suddenly both lighter and heavier at the same time. Their friends' words had lifted their spirits, but more terrors sprung from within as the Needle tapped into the fears of those same friends.

Shame. Abandonment. Aimlessness. Loneliness. It all surged up through the tips of their fingers, burning their nerve endings and pressing on their skulls. The urge to let go was nigh irresistible. They just might have, if two more figures hadn't stepped from the darkness and into the light when they did.

"Lucas. Claus." It was their mom, hand-in-hand with their dad. "We believe in you," she said.

"Darn right," Flint added. "You boys know what to do. Nothing needs to be sealed away anymore."

The floodgates opened. Friends from far and wide emerged from the shadows, offering their prayers. They came with words of encouragement and reasons to see another sunrise. One more drink with friends. One more gig. To have that first date, or a last dance. A promise to keep, or a chance not yet taken. It all piled on faster and faster and faster, until it seemed like nothing could hold back the tide.

Every person also brought along their own pain to join the swirling vortex within the Needle. It lashed out blindly, violently, but to no avail. All that doubt, that heartache, and the burden of countless losses and lifetimes full of regret, it felt so small under the weight of so much hope, so much love. The prayers of their friends, their family, everyone on the Nowhere Islands and beyond, reached out. The fears sealing the Needle were banished one by one, like night before the break of dawn.

All Lucas could hear anymore were prayers. Some of the voices he knew well. Others he'd never heard before. Some had no words at all, but the beating of their hearts said more than words ever could. It didn't matter who was who, because for a brief moment in late summer, every living thing came together as one chorus to share their hopes, their fears, and above all else, their love.

The seal atop the Needle fragmented, its gleaming shards scattering into the air like dandelion seeds before vanishing. The shaft lifted out of the ground with remarkable ease, and then it too disappeared from their hands. The column of light faded in and out in time with the slow, deliberate beating of the Dragon's heart. Lucas could only marvel as he realized that every last heart that came together to pull the Needle had been passed on to the Dragon. Whatever would come next, it wouldn't be his world. It would be everyone's.

* * *

[Last chapter, I promised a question. Here it is: **does Claus survive?** You tell me. This decision is in your hands. We'll see how it plays out in the finale.

Until then, I want to acknowledge you wonderful readers and extend my appreciation. So thank you, Fueled By Nightmares (for always being there), Super Shadowsonic, asamiruria (for your fantastic suggestions), alpha1026, Captain Circle, The Guest Account, CapitalClassShip, HtfLover (for the awesome fanart), Jinx198, RainyTheChrome, IwaKitsune, RainyTazmily, all of the guest reviewers, and everyone who hasn't reviewed (I'm just glad to know you've been here.) Thank you all for your time, your attention, your follows and favorites, and most of all your love. This has been a real labor of love for me, but I don't think I could finish it without yours.

with love,

ian]


	54. What Will Be

[Before the end, I just want to extend my thanks to you. All of your responses helped shape this chapter, and this entire story, into what it is. I couldn't grant everyone's wishes, but that's just how it goes. It's been quite a journey getting here, and I'm glad you joined me for it.]

* * *

The riotous droning of a thousand beating hearts strangled all other sound. The air turned to sludge and the light died. Lucas kicked his feet and swung his arms, thrashing this way and that. He could barely make it out through his lidded eyes, but there was a dim glow above him. Lungs burning, body aching, he reached out.

A deafening spray, and then a glorious breath of air. He sputtered, choked, and strained to put sense to what he saw. Clear blue skies over calm waters, and between them, a short distance away, was dry land.

Lucas dragged himself through the tide, inching ever closer to the beach until his hands were sinking into wet sand. Clambering ashore, his chest heaved and muscles shuddered under the weight of his own body. Silt, seaweed and soaked clothes clung to his frame, all of them grown heavy with the same brine he was wiping from his eyes and spitting from his mouth.

Rolling onto his back, Lucas was sandwiched between the sun-baked sand and the abundant sky with only the rolling waves to keep him company. It was the perfect place to lie back, catch his breath, and try to figure out what in the world just happened.

Naturally, that tiny sliver of serenity could not last. Before he could even clear his head he heard someone else drag themselves ashore a few paces behind him, grunting, gasping, coughing, and generally making so much of a scene that it could only be one person. A single peek offered all the confirmation Lucas needed.

"Hey, Claus."

Soggy and sulking, the redhead didn't – or couldn't – answer right away. With one final hack he cleared his lungs and flopped down beside his brother. "Hey yourself," he wheezed.

"You okay?"

His laugh was sweet and sonorous, though barely audible over the wind and waves. "Never better. You?"

"Yeah, m'good," Lucas mumbled back.

"Quite the ride, wasn't it?"

"Mmhmm."

With an exaggerated groan, Claus sat up and leaned over Lucas, his still-drenched hair dripping. "Surprised to see me?"

"Nah," Lucas answered simply. "I knew you'd make it."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. You said you would."

Another laugh, uglier than the last, bubbled up in Claus's throat. "Okay then, smart guy. Did you see THIS coming?"

"See whaAAAH!" Lucas let out a scream when Claus bombarded his most ticklish spots. Rolling away didn't help at all; the older twin knew just where to strike to get the best reaction and didn't stop until Lucas was a helpless mess of giggles.

Satisfied with a job well done, Claus sat back to bask in his victory to the tune of his brother's subsiding hysterics. As tempting as it was to revel in the moment, though, he knew that they couldn't. "Should we get going?"

Lucas gave no reply. When Claus went to check on him the blonde flinched away.

"What's wrong?"

Lucas choked back a silent sob. "N-nothing." It snuck up on him out of nowhere, and try as he might there was no stopping it. No wails or noisy blubbers crossed his lips, just tears streaming down his cheeks without explanation or end.

"Hey now." Claus rested a hand on his brother's back. "No crying 'til . . . Ah, forget it."

For a time, it was enough to lie on the beach in silence under the warm summer sun with the salty sea breeze blowing in their hair. Even after Lucas ran all out of tears and their clothes began to dry, neither of them wanted to be the first to spoil the peace and quiet. That responsibility fell in someone else's lap.

"Well, well, well," a bedraggled Kumatora mused as she appeared over the dune at the boys' backs. "Look what washed up."

"Lucas? Claus?" Duster called out to them. "You two alright?" He looked even more like a bum than usual, with his hair sticking out at odd angles and one shoe missing.

"We're still here," Claus answered with none of the expected verve, "wherever 'here' is."

"Told you they'd be fine," Kumatora crowed.

Duster rolled his eyes to disguise his relief. "No one likes a braggart."

Smirking, Kumatora leaned in and poked him in the chest. "You like me just fine."

"Sometimes I wonder why."

"Is that so?" Kumatora grabbed him by the collar and yanked him in to plant a passionate kiss on his lips. "Still wondering?"

"Get a room!" Claus jeered.

"Maybe later," Kumatora answered, sparing a wink that only Duster could see.

"You two are so gross!"

It took a few seconds for Duster's brain to reboot, but when it did he cleared his throat. "Alright, that's enough messing around," he said. "We've got places to be; you boys especially."

"Yeah, seems like everybody went and got it in their heads that you knuckleheads saved the world," Kumatora chuckled. "Or did you destroy it? Hard to tell. Either way, pretty much everyone wants a word, so you better get a move on."

That finally roused Lucas from his reverie. "Everyone?" he asked. "They're all here?"

"Sure looked like it to me," Duster shrugged. "Too many to do a headcount. You're welcome to try, though. They're just on the other side of the hill back there."

Claus could see the glimmer in his twin's eye, but he figured he'd ask anyway. "Well, Lucas? Whaddya think?"

Lucas nodded. "Let's go." There was no use denying it: he wanted to see what sort of world the Dragon dreamed up.

The sandy shoreline quickly gave way to hardy grass and green trees that would have looked at home back in any old glade around Tazmily. It wasn't, though. Scanning the sky and seeing no recognizable mountain peaks anywhere, the twins were hit by the weighty realization that for the first time in their lives they weren't on the Nowhere Islands anymore. They had left those familiar trappings behind.

As the four of them crested the ridge, they beheld a gathering of people as large as any they'd ever witnessed. Family and friends, passing acquaintances and perfect strangers all crowded around a clearing. They were all chattering, sounds of confusion, alarm and relief melding into a din that only settled when one after another they turned their attention to the four figures on the hilltop. Greeted with waves and cheers from many, Lucas, Claus, Kumatora and Duster headed down to join the throng. The sea of people parted around them as they went, until at last Lucas and Claus came face to face with the sweetest sight of all: their mom and dad, grandpa and Boney, all together, all smiles, waiting for them.

Wrapped in their arms, sandwiched between his father's stubble and his mother's warmth, straining to breathe thanks to his brother's iron grip and his grandfather's musk, Lucas breathed a sigh of relief.

The rest of that day was a blur. So many faces, so much to say – it was a wonder they could even make sense of it all. The boys couldn't even get a word in before their grandfather was congratulating them.

"So how's it feel to be the _toast_ of the town, eh? You really got us out of a _jam_ back there. A man couldn't ask for _butter_ grandkids. Hah ha!" He wiped a tear from his eye, hardly able to keep his giggling in check. "Okay, okay. I'll lay off the jokes just this once. I sure am proud, though. It seems like only yesterday I was changing your diapers, and now look at you two. You really know how to make a guy feel old, huh? Ah, don't worry; I'm just bein' _crusty_."

Not everyone had such an optimistic outlook, however.

"It's gone. All gone!" Jill exclaimed to anyone who would listen. "Our house, our land, our belongings; we've lost it all! When I find who's responsible for this, I'll . . . I'll wallop them good is what I'll do."

"Settle down, mom." Biff was doing his best to calm her down. "I know it's not ideal, but if anything you should be thanking Lucas."

"That little crybaby? Hardly," she scoffed. "Mark my words: this is all because of that brother of his. That troublemaker is behind it somehow."

As the twins quickly discovered, many of their neighbors had remembered everything. The Pigmask invasion, the end of the world, and their lives before the White Ship or Porky's brainwashing were laid bare. Some of the townsfolk took comfort and joy in such memories; a little too much joy in certain cases.

"Quit?!" Pusher blustered. "You can't quit!"

"I believe I just did," Sebastian countered.

"Don't you know who I am? I run this town!"

Elmore interjected before Pusher's face could get any redder, sidling up next to Sebastian with an affectionate smile. "Ignore my husband, he's a spineless old oaf," she said. "This is all a big misunderstanding. You see, Sebastian – is it alright if I still call you Sebastian? Had we known you were such an important man back before the world ended things would have been very different, I assure you."

Pusher stamped his foot. "Don't grovel to the help!"

Ignoring her husband, Elmore gave the butler a forlorn sigh. "Do you see what I put up with? I really am far too forgiving for my own good. I would have to be to put up with a man of such . . . low ambitions. A pity they can't all be cut from the same cloth as you."

Softening ever so slightly, Sebastian regarded Elmore. "Ma'am?"

"Yes, my dear Sebastian?"

"Please do be careful," he warned her. "That stole stains easily and I'll not be the one laundering it the next time it gets a spot."

Before she could respond, Neckbeard stepped up to Sebastian's side. "Is this lady botherin' you, boss?"

"No, no bother at all," Sebastian assured him. "Come along, gents. We've some important matters to attend to."

"Right behind you, sir," Skinhead nodded.

Others were a bit more apprehensive about their newfound perspective on the world.

"I gotta say: this has been a sobering experience," Bob confessed.

"No foolin'," Matt agreed. "I think it cured my hiccups."

"Think things'll ever go back to how they used to be?" asked Bob.

"Dunno," Matt reckoned, "but it ain't up to us."

"Y'know, I think I might actually start to miss pouring drinks for you slobs," Jackie realized. "Funny, isn't it?"

"A real laugh-riot," Bob snorted.

"Now I know things seem a little dire right now," said Jonel, "and while it's true we've all lost a lot, it's at times like this that we need to think about what we still have. Dear friends and family matter a lot more than some old buildings or watered-down cocktails."

"Easy for you to say," Matt grumbled. "You're not the one who just found out his whole life was a sham."

"Matt, that's what everybody just found out," Bob reminded him.

"Okay fine," Matt conceded. "But at least his wife is really his wife."

"You and Jill have been together for the last twenty years or so," Jonel recalled. "If that's not long enough to make her your 'real' wife, then I don't know what to tell ya."

Spotting Lucas's approach, a relieved Jackie greeted him. "Hey there, Lucas. Pull up a stump. I hear this is your doing. Not sure I follow what happened, but most folks seem to think it's a good thing. I'd lead a toast in your honor, but . . . Well, thanks all the same."

"Hmm? Lucas?" The name struck a nerve with the last of the men gathered around. "Oh hey, it's my favorite part-timer." The face wasn't familiar, but the voice gave it away: Mr. Brown. "Don't tell me you forgot all about me. Your old boss? From the factory? Boy, those sure were some good times, huh? Say, I've been looking for you. Well, not looking so much as keeping an eye out wherever I happened to be. At least I would have if I hadn't forgotten all about you and the factory and . . . Ahem. Anyway, I was supposed to give you your last paycheck. We didn't have your mailing address, you see. It's not much, and nobody uses DP anymore, but if nothing else you can think of it as a memento of, um . . . of our time . . . our, er, time together." The way Mr. Brown's search through his pockets was getting more frantic made it clear what was coming next. "Oh. I seem to have lost it. How embarrassing. But if you're still looking for part-time work, I'm starting up a little construction business and you can get in on the ground floor. Just a hunch, but seeing as nobody has a place to live anymore, I'd wager demand will be through the roof."

Then there were those whose memories hadn't returned at all.

"No, can't say I recall any of that," Nippolyte admitted after some probing. "I don't mind, though; it sounds awful. To be honest, I wouldn't want to remember any life but this one. Even at my age, it's a good idea to keep your eyes on the road ahead." The gravedigger's contented smile was hard to argue with. "You're too young to remember, but I wasn't always the town undertaker. I just happened to be the only guy with a shovel. What I really wanted was to be a gardener. Maybe it's not too late, thanks to you."

Hinawa might have had the most unique perspective of all. She may very well have known the answer to life's greatest mystery. If she did, she was in no rush to share.

"I just don't know what we're gonna do," Dona rambled. "How are we supposed to get home? Is there anything left to go back to?"

"It'll be okay," Hinawa assured her. "You don't have to face this on your own. We'll figure it out together."

"Hinawa's right," Lisa chimed in. "We'll watch out for each other, same as we always have."

"Yeah. Same as always." Dona took a few deep breaths, but was still rattled. "I just hate to think . . . Was I imagining things? Hinawa, I can remember that night. The rain and the smoke . . . and the funeral the next day. It feels so real, but here you are."

"Here I am," Hinawa echoed back, drawing her friend into a hug.

Of course there were some people who remained practical in the face of any existential crisis. Maybe keeping busy was just their way of dealing with it all.

"Hurry up with that timber!" Lighter bellowed to his assembled workforce. "We're gonna need lots of firewood before it gets dark out."

"On it, boss!" Bud and Lou replied.

If there was one thing Lighter could manage it was firewood, or so he liked to think. It was slow going, though, even with a crew. He could still afford to take a break when he caught sight of Claus, though. "Hey there, squirt," he said fondly. "Have you seen Fuel? Lazy good-for-nothing ran off somewhere and we need all the spare hands we can get."

"I'm not so sure we do," Isaac admitted. "There're only so many twigs to be picked up around here. What we really need is an axe."

The formerly fierce pork trooper snorted at Isaac. "Axe? You sound like an underage kid. Who needs an axe when you've got a pair of guns like these?" he asked, showing off his bulging biceps. It would have been more impressive if he'd actually collected any wood, rather than merely standing around flexing.

"Speaking of axes, how's it coming, Bronson?" asked Lighter.

"Keep your shirt on, dammit!" the blacksmith groused. "I'd like to see you try making a tool out of whatever you find lying around in the woods."

"Do what you can. We're counting on you."

"What else is new?"

As luck would have it, the item guy and his cart happened to be within earshot at that very moment. "You guys need an axe? I think I might have one."

That got Lighter's attention. "Really?"

"Yeah, buddy." He began pawing through his goods. There were old clothes, various gizmos, and some food that was certainly past its expiration date, and that was only the beginning. "People leave all sorts of stuff with me. I'm not really supposed to lend it out, but under the circumstances I don't think they'd mind."

Thomas whistled at the sight of the item guy's goods. "You've got quite the collection of odds and ends there," he noted. "And you say that people just hand it over to you?"

"For safekeeping."

"That's amazing," said Thomas, whose own stock was as sadly lost with the bazaar that bore his name. "You and I should shoot the breeze sometime; us entrepreneurs gotta stick together."

Lucas, meanwhile, had crossed paths with a band of townsfolk less concerned with keeping warm than keeping everyone fed. Hard work would be even harder on empty stomachs, they reasoned.

"I'll help, but I'm not really sure what to look for," Ollie admitted.

"It's about time you got your hands dirty," Mike grinned. "You youngsters have had it too easy. Stick with me and I'll show you how we got by back in my day."

"Couldn't you just go to the supermarket back in your day?" Caroline asked.

Mike screwed his lips into a frown, realizing just how right she was. "Well . . . we'd still have to go in the rain sometimes. Or the snow! Twenty miles, uphill both ways. If you wanted to eat, you had to work for it."

"Don't worry, Ollie; I'll help you," Tessie offered. "I think I saw some wildflowers that make a nice tea that we can gather."

"Keep an eye out for nuts, too," Caroline reminded them. "I might not have my kitchen, but I'm sure I can still whip something up."

"Just come to us before you sample anything," Abbey told her neighbors. "Abbot and I know a thing or two about plants."

"We sure do," Abbot agreed happily. "Gosh, and here I thought we'd never get a chance to really put that knowhow to the test. It makes me a little nervous, actually. It does beat sitting around in front of the Happy Box though."

"Hmph!" Mike snorted. "There just might be hope for you whippersnappers yet."

While everyone else mingled, Kumatora had her sights on her next objective. She'd already found two wayward souls. What was one more?

"You're looking for Doc?" asked Brenda. "No I haven't seen him, and I don't much expect to. Him appearing out of the blue like that last year, acting like he'd always been there, it's a bit creepy, don't you think?"

"Oh absolutely," Betsy agreed. "You know, I hear he's not even a real doctor. He's supposedly some kind of scientist. They say he does these weird experiments, if you believe that sort of thing."

"The nerve of some men. Good riddance, I say," Brenda scoffed. "Though I will miss that candy."

"He _did_ have the best lollipops. And he was rather charming for an older gentleman."

"Oh hush. What if Jackie overheard you?"

"I'm sure he'd agree; he loves candy as much as anyone."

As she tried to excuse herself, Kumatora hoped that Duster was having more luck than she was, or at least finding less chatty people. He wasn't.

"Sorry, but your guess is as good as mine," Mapson shrugged, meekly holding his hat in hand. "I don't know where he is. I don't even know where _we_ are. Some help I am, huh? For once, the map-owning, map-loving Mapson is map-less. Seems like I can't tell you where to go anymore. Guess you'll have to explore for yourself."

"Thanks anyway," said Duster. "I'll keep looking."

As Mapson shambled off, Duster felt a tap on his shoulder. It was Wess, looking as curmudgeonly as ever. "Can't even find one old coot, huh?"

"Dad . . ."

"Don't you sass me," Wess scolded him. "How sad; my son – my pupil – can't track down a bumbling codger. What's this world coming to?"

Duster kept his cool, knowing better than to talk back. Sometimes (or maybe all the time) it was better to let his father yammer on uninterrupted.

Sensing he'd get no quarrel, Wess could only sigh and shake his head. "You're a lousy thief." Then his expression softened. ". . . But a better son than an old moron like me deserves."

"Love you too, dad."

"Alright, enough of that," Wess grumbled, his face souring again. "Save it for Kumatora. I don't know what she sees in you, but don't you dare screw it up 'cause you'll never do better."

"I'll try my best."

"See that you do. She's coming this way."

Not waiting for either a farewell from his son or a how-do-you-do from his former ward, Wess was off as fast as his legs would take him. If there was one thing an old thief like him was good for, it was not being seen.

"Any luck?" asked Kumatora.

"None yet," Duster sighed. "Mapson's clueless. The chauffeur was no help either."

"Keep it up. He's gotta be around here somewhere."

"What's so important about Dr. Andonuts anyway? I didn't think you even liked the guy."

"I don't," she confirmed, "but I figure if anyone can make sense of all this, it'd be him."

"If you say so," Duster said with a noncommittal shrug. "Of course we need to find him first. It's like he up and vanished."

They still had plenty of places left to look, but the way Kumatora chewed on her fingernails proved that she was getting nervous. That was until she spotted an arrow lizard in the underbrush, its head pointing insistently back toward the beach. "Heh. Maybe we've been asking the wrong people."

Duster only gave her a confused look.

"This way," Kumatora said before stomping off.

After all their time together, from their meeting at Osohe Castle to the years at Club Titiboo and all their adventures since, Duster didn't merely trust Kumatora's strange intuition; he'd come to depend on it. With a bob of his head, he jogged after her.

As Lucas meandered from one gathering to the next, he eventually happened upon the strangest scene yet: a whole barnyard's worth of livestock clustered together around a shallow stream. There were chickens mingling with rabbits, pigs rolling about in the mud while sheep eyed them suspiciously, and cows lazily eating grass or lying in the shade of grand old oaks. In the middle of it all stood two chubby-cheeked, round-figured brunette men, gleefully patting themselves on the back.

"Hey there, Lucas!" It was Butch, arms akimbo and a broad smile pasted on his lips. "Whaddya think? Pretty impressive, wouldn't you say?"

"You're darn right it is," the second man – whom Lucas recognized as the Pigmask Lydia saved –answered on his behalf. "All these rabbits are safe and sound, thanks to me!"

"Thanks to US, you mean," Butch corrected him. "Plus the pigs and cows and chickens and . . . Hey, wait a minute. Aren't these _your_ sheep, Lucas? Shouldn't you have been keeping an eye on them? Some shepherd you turned out to be. Oh ho ho! Hey, what's that look for?"

"You're not the only one who can be a hero, y'know," said the one-time Pigmask Captain. "Where would all these poor animals be without us, hmm?"

As it happened, Lucas was not the only one passing by just then. Ed, Nan and Alle, who was clutching Mr. Beary in her arms, had caught sight of all the animals as well.

"Impressive work, Butch," said Ed. "I don't suppose you saw Myrna, did you?"

"She's our parrot," Nan explained for the Pigmask's benefit. "We've been looking all over the place."

"Grandpa'd be real sad if we lost her," Alle added, anxiously squeezing the stuffed bear.

Sensing a chance to outdo himself, the former Pigmask spoke up right away. "Never fear, we'll help you look!"

"Darn right we will," Butch concurred. "See, Lucas? This is what REAL heroes look like."

Before they could spring into action, however, yet another lookie-loo made himself known.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I think I've found something that belongs to you." It was Bateau, and he was carrying a brightly-colored parrot on his outstretched arm.

"I'm alive!" Myrna squawked. "I'm plenty alive, dagnabbit!"

"You found her, Mr. Bateau!" Alle cheered. "Thank you so much!"

"You're welcome, but it wasn't hard; she was hiding out with my doves."

"Hey, what's the big idea, Bateau?" Butch asked indignantly.

"Yeah!" his friend joined in. "We were supposed to be the ones to save the day!"

"All I did was find one little bird," said Bateau. "Nothing as impressive as a cow or even a pig."

Butch had to think it over for a second before agreeing. "Well, that IS true. I guess we can forgive you, but just this—"

Everyone – even the assembled animals – went silent when they heard thunderous footfalls getting closer and closer and closer. All eyes fell upon the shuddering shrubberies in the direction of those ominous sounds. It was a real shock when a rambunctious redhead popped out of them.

"Hey Lucas!" Claus shouted to his twin with a mischievous grin. "Guess who I found!"

Guesses were not necessary, as the drago family had already flanked the boy. At least Butch and his Pigmask pal could still take pride in corralling more critters than anyone else, even if theirs were less impressive.

Emerging from the row of trees buttressing the beach, Duster and Kumatora were pleasantly surprised to find the shoreline busier than it had been on their last visit. One particular sight demanded their immediate attention though.

"Over here! Look!" Ocho the octopus shouted as he wrapped his tentacles around a snare drum half-buried in the sand.

Baccio was the first on the scene, already carrying some of the other scattered remnants of his drum set. "Good eye," he said. "I guess we'll throw it on the pile."

Holding the prize up for a closer look, Ocho took an optimistic view of things. "Hey, I think this one might still work. Good news, right?"

"You're doing better than the rest of us," said Shimmy Zmizz, who was still mourning the loss of his keyboard. "Well, except for Magic."

Magic's guitar was slung over his back, caked in sand and missing a couple strings, but otherwise in surprisingly good shape. There was only one problem. "Fat lot of good it does me," he grunted. "How am I supposed to play an electric guitar without electricity?"

"You never know what you'll find when you're beachcombing," Ocho reminded them. "There could be a generator over the next dune."

"Hey guys!" Duster called out to them.

"Lucky!" his bandmates answered all at once.

"Good to see you," said OJ, who was lugging around his battered sax. "I was starting to worry we'd pull _you_ out of the sand next."

"Better than out of the drink," Baccio reminded him.

"Don't I know it," OJ sighed. By way of explanation, he blew into his instrument's mouthpiece. The only thing it produced was a splash of seawater. "Say, now that we're all here I've got a notion to run by you guys. Whaddya think of hirin' Ocho on officially?"

"We _could_ use a new manager," Shimmy Zmizz concurred, "since the last one turned out to be a maniac bent on destroying the world."

"I don't know the first thing about being a manager, though," Ocho pointed out.

"No worries, my man," said Baccio, giving the octopus a reassuring pat on the tentacles. "We don't know the first thing about bein' managed."

"My mom used to say that was why I couldn't keep a job," Magic noted. "Personally, I think it was the mohawk."

"You've got my vote," said Duster, "but only if you can 'manage' to help us look for Dr. Andonuts."

"The doc's disappeared, huh?" asked OJ. "Sounds like a worthy cause to me. Whaddya say, boys?"

The first response came from the unlikeliest source: only a few inches off the ground. "You bet!" It was Rope Snake, slithering into view with a determined look on his face. "It's me, the Rope Snake. I was here the whole time, but I never really had anything to contribute so I tried to stay out of the way. But now it feels like I just might be able to help out for once. It's my time to shine, and I'm not gonna waste it!"

Baccio nodded. "What he said."

Puffing out his chest, Rope Snake led the way. "Follow me, then!"

Faced with that much confidence, it was hard to say no, even if a few of them (rightly) suspected that Rope Snake was out of his depth. Nonetheless, Rope Snake marched them over to the first people he saw: a couple of men in striped shirts dragging a waterlogged but salvageable boat ashore.

"You there! Ferrymen!" Rope Snake called out to them.

"We have names, you know," the taller man answered. "I'm Paddel and that's Rowe."

"We're from the Tazmily Boat Club!" Rowe enthused. "Or at least we used to be."

"We've still got a boat," said Paddel. "But without Tazmily, it's a little hard to have a club."

"Can you help us?" asked Rope Snake. "We're looking for someone and that boat of yours is the fastest way to get around."

"Oof, sorry buddy," Paddel winced.

"Yeah, sorry," Rowe echoed. "This ship of ours isn't exactly ship-shape anymore."

"I think our days as ferryman are sunk," said Paddel. "But that's okay, 'cause once we get this thing all fixed up we're gonna run a fishing boat instead."

"Neither of us knows how to fish, though," Rowe pointed out.

"So?" Paddel countered. "I bet none of these fishermen know how to boat."

While those two babbled back and forth, Kumatora decided it would be better to ask someone else. Paul and Linda just happened to be nearby. "Have you guys seen Dr. Andonuts around?"

"Doc?" asked Linda. "No, I don't think so."

"We DID see a couple monkeys riding a big, purple sea monster, though," Paul added.

"No, YOU saw that," Linda huffed. "I still want people to think I'm sane."

"C'mon, they were dancing! Don't pretend you didn't see it too."

"Today's been crazy enough already, thank you very much."

"Thanks anyway," said Kumatora, hoping to cut off what could turn into another rambling conversation that she wanted no part of. She'd already had more than enough of that for one day. Thankfully, fate decided just then to cut her a lucky break.

A loud bellow erupted from beneath the sea. Paul and Linda jumped back from the shore and everyone else all turned to watch as a large, metal something-or-other tore its way up through the cresting waves, its shape obscured by cascades of water as it plowed inland. Their alarm was short-lived, though, as the object lurched to a halt as soon as it ran aground, the last of the churning water washing aside to expose a petite yellow submarine.

After a few tense seconds the small hatch on the vessel's side swung open and a pair of Mr. Saturns trundled out into the surf, followed closely by Dr. Andonuts. The old scientist blinked at the bright light and sucked in a breath of fresh air, looking quite pleased with himself.

"Speak of the devil," Kumatora muttered.

Spotting the gathered townsfolk for the first time, Dr. Andonuts put on a showy smile and stepped out onto the sand, followed by a parade of even more Mr. Saturns. "Well well, you're still alive. I suppose that means my calculations were off."

"Doc!" Linda exclaimed. "You scared us half to death!"

"See, guys?" Rope Snake asked. "I told you I'd find him!"

"Never doubted you for a second," Duster assured the reptile.

Looking over the submarine, Paul turned to Dr. Andonuts and asked, "What in the blazes is this thing?"

"Just a little piece of nostalgia," the doctor assured him with a waggle of his moustache.

"nEEDS moRE RiBBon. Zoom!" one Mr. Saturn commented.

"anD wHiSKERS. DinG!" added a second.

"anD BiRDiES!" suggested a third.

Stepping forward, Kumatora folded her arms to wait for an explanation. "So, care to tell us what the hell happened back there?"

Dr. Andonuts brushed her aside without a second thought. "You're clever; I'm sure you can figure it out. As for me, I've got work to do. If everyone came out of this mess of yours in one piece, then I really should chip in by making sure they don't all starve to death. I've already got an idea for an improvement on the old yogurt dispenser. I call it: the omelet dispenser. Wah ha ha!" As he walked off, it was with some extra pep in his step.

"I could go for omelet about now," said Shimmy Zmizz.

"Don't think this means you're off the hook!" Kumatora called after the scientist while he was still within earshot.

"Another quest completed," Duster noted.

Kumatora scowled his way. "But we didn't learn a damn thing!"

"Do we ever?"

"Ya got me there," she had to admit.

"So?" asked Duster. "Where to next?"

A smirk blossomed on Kumatora's face. Her boyfriend knew her too well. "You pick," she told him.

Hours passed, reunions were had and eyes were opened. As the day wound down the initial excitement waned with it and everyone began to settle into their new reality. The sun sank below the horizon and the mole crickets started to sing, but Lighter's efforts had borne fruit. Trails of smoke rose above the treetops as campfires came to dot the landscape. Families and friends gathered around the flames, sharing what meager meals they could cobble together and what insight they could offer. Plans were already being laid for the next day, the next week, and in some instances the foreseeable future.

Of everyone gathered about one particular campfire, Reggie seemed to be the most confident when it came to their situation. "Reggie's not too worried about living off the land," he said. "He's used to it. The trees and bees and bogs and frogs are his friends. As for Reggie's home, it's not the first time he's lost it. It'll all turn out okay in the end; just believe that and you're already on the right path."

"If you say so," Nichol said with a shrug.

"What about you, Mr. Leder?" Lucas asked. "What are you gonna do?"

The man looked down with a smile illuminated by the flickering firelight. His long legs were stretched out in front of him as he reclined on a makeshift seat. "That's a good question," he said. "The bell is gone, so I've got nothing left to ring. Even if it was still around, though, I'm not sure there'd be much point. It seems like I'm out of a job, wouldn't you say?"

Lucas cast his eyes downward. "I guess so."

Leder smirked at the trace of guilt in the boy's response. "Not that I'm complaining. I suppose the answer to your question is that I'm retiring. Time to enjoy my golden years and live out the rest of my 'story' however I like."

"Sounds like everyone's got plans, huh?" Angie asked Fuel.

"Everyone but me," he admitted.

"You'll figure it out," she assured him. "But if you ever get sick of gathering firewood, we could always use more help with the food. You're pretty okay at cooking."

Fuel's face lit up at even such faint praise. "Really? You mean it?"

"Sure, as long as you wash your hands. We don't need another 'Mike' in the kitchen."

Fuel snorted, only to then think back to the meal he'd just finished. "He didn't make the food tonight, did he?"

"Don't worry," Angie giggled. "It was only slightly unclean."

All things considered, Fuel had undoubtedly had worse. "I guess it's fine then."

"Besides, I get sooo bored making food with my mom and her friends," Angie continued on. "I miss hanging out with you."

"I miss it too."

"So? Think you can help out with breakfast?" She looked his way with hope in her eyes.

He smiled back. "Sounds good."

"What about you, Nana?" Lucas asked. She didn't seem to notice; probably lost in her own little world like so many other folks. She'd been especially quiet all day long, though. "Nana?"

"Sorry," she apologized meekly. "I, um, don't really know yet." It was strange; for possibly the first time in her life, she found that words failed her. Even though she was bristling with nervous energy, she had nothing to say. Or rather, there was only one thing she could say. "Lucas?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you," she said. "For everything."

On the other side of the fire, Nichol and Richie were conversing in hushed tones.

"So Lucas and Claus are some kinda heroes, huh?" Nichol asked.

Richie shrugged. "Seems like it."

"And Claus used to be dead, right?"

"I thought he was. Maybe his dad wasn't crazy after all for spending so long looking for him."

"I guess not." The whole situation had been pestering Nichol ever since they woke up in that strange place earlier in the day. The more he mulled it over, the more unavoidable the conclusion became. "Are we boring? All we do is mind the bazaar."

"We can't even do that anymore."

"Hey, you're right!" Nichol realized. "Maybe things'll get more interesting now."

Angie didn't share her brother's enthusiasm. "After today, I could do with some dullness."

"You're no fun, y'know that?" Nichol asked. "Say, if one of us went missing, how long do you think dad would look?"

"Dad would probably be too busy," Richie sighed. "Mom, though? She'd track you to the ends of the Earth just to tell you to clean your room."

"Too true. No adventures for us, then."

"Thank goodness."

As much as Richie may have wished for a quiet life, there was one person around who would make sure it was anything but. Claus emerged into the firelight with Boney at his side. "What'd I miss?" he asked, flopping down in between Lucas and Fuel.

"We were just talking about our plans," said Lucas. "Have a nice walk?"

"Woof! (We sure did,)" Boney barked. "Woof woof! (There's lots of new trees to sniff.)"

"Sorry we took so long, but _somebody_ had to go and chase a mouse," Claus apologized while looking pointedly at Boney.

"(I'm not the one that took five minutes to mark my territory,)" Boney chuffed defiantly.

"I was nervous! The forest is super creepy at night."

"No way, the woods are great," Fuel insisted.

"What about all the spooky noises, though?" Claus asked.

Fuel scoffed at that. "You probably just heard an owl or somethin'."

"Must've been one seriously big owl."

"Aw, don't worry," Fuel cooed as he wrapped an arm around Claus's shoulder. "I'll protect you."

"Shut up." Despite rolling his eyes, Claus let Fuel's arm stay right where it was.

"So, I know today was pretty crazy and everything," Fuel noted, "but just out of curiosity, are we still on for tomorrow?"

"Are you for real?"

"I'm just askin'."

"I'd love to hang out," said Claus, "buuut . . ."

"But what?"

"I'm kinda, um, grounded."

"What?!" Fuel was flabbergasted. "For how long?"

Sinking lower, Claus sighed pitifully. "Pretty much forever, I think."

"More like a couple days," said Lucas. "Just until things settle down, I bet."

Fuel looked between the twins in astonishment. "But I thought your folks were proud of you!"

"They are," Claus assured him. "They're a little less proud of the part where we didn't tell them until it was too late."

"It's not like they can send us to our rooms," Lucas pointed out, "so instead we're supposed to help out however we can."

"In other words, no time for fun," said Claus.

"Well that's just great," Fuel groused. "What am I supposed to do in the meantime?"

"We could always work together," Claus suggested.

For all his protesting, Fuel gave in with remarkable ease. "Well if you're gonna twist my arm then I guess I don't have much choice."

It was the best arrangement they were likely to get. Funnily enough, even with their lives upended in every possible way, none of it seemed to weigh them down. For all the seriousness of their situation, there was an inexplicable air of hope running throughout the camp. Plans were already being made for the first buildings in their new, yet-to-be-named town. Everyone had a job to do and people to do it alongside. Claus and Fuel would be there for all of it, together at every turn.

Almost everyone did their best to get some sleep that night. The rough ground didn't make it easy, but most folks were worn out enough that they could manage a few winks. Lucas was not like most folks. Even as he reclined by the dying embers of a campfire, rest would not come. He couldn't help keeping watch over his brother, who was curled up in a ball between their mother and Boney. For her part, Hinawa was so exhausted that she could hardly stay awake through dinner. She'd passed out almost as soon as she settled in.

Seeing them there, still alive and well, Lucas knew it was nothing short of a miracle. Part of him wished he could live in that moment forever and that dawn would never come.

"Lucas?" It was his dad, his voice soft and mild. "Still awake?"

"Uh-huh."

Flint was hunched over next to the smoldering remains of the fire, his features barely illuminated. "You should get some shut-eye. We've got a lot on our plate for tomorrow."

"I tried," Lucas assured him, "but I just can't get to sleep . . ."

The man had heard that one before. "Anything I can do?"

Lucas shook his head slowly. "No thanks."

"If you say so." Flint wasn't one to intrude where he wasn't wanted. But he suspected he was more wanted than Lucas was letting on. "Y'know, it's funny. I've never noticed it before, but you look an awful lot like your aunt – my sister."

"I do?"

"Mmhmm. Spitting-image. Same hair and all."

Lucas didn't say anything right away. Hearing his father talk about family he'd never met – would never meet – felt a bit melancholy. "What was she like?"

"Smart as a whip," he said, "and sweeter 'n a bowl of sugar. You two have that in common."

"She sounds nice."

"She was."

Even without all the trappings of home – their beds, their belongings, the old doghouse they'd worked on together so many times – they both felt whole, like something had at long last settled back into its proper place.

With almost everyone asleep and the fires burned out, the world was nearly silent but for the ribbits and croaks of unseen save frogs. A more perfect night Lucas could not have asked for, except for one detail. It was too quiet. Flint alone understood that. He started to hum a lullaby, one Lucas hadn't heard since Boney was a puppy. That slow, rich melody took the boy back to his very earliest memories, to someplace warm and safe. His eyes eased shut, his breath slowed, and his heart slackened its pace. If only for a moment, all the Earth was at peace.


End file.
